The Apartheid
by Platinum Express
Summary: Sirius and Hermione stumble into a marriage, after a night of drunken sex. Now they want out, but wizarding law decrees that a couple have to live together for a year before divorce. Rated M for severe smut and language.
1. The Leaky Cauldron

**AN- Takes off after DH, and hence contains spoilers, but not very many. Also, I'm going on the assumption that Sirius never died (how I wish). If that's too much to take in, you can assume that the cryptic forces of the universe tossed the dice a little too far and a strange and conveniently gone wrong spell caused him to tumble out of Veil. Or you can be like me and forget that he's supposed to be dead. I kind of like the second view better, right?**

**CHAPTER 1**

'Happy birthday, Harry!' Hermione said, brightly, as she walked into the Leaky Cauldron 'Here's your present.'

'Thanks,' Harry grinned, taking the red parcel from her and tossing it onto a heap of dazzling gifts. 'That it makes it three fifty four. Almost one for every day of the year, right? You're looking pretty, Hermione.'

'Don't I always?' Hermione teased, curtsying for the heck of it. She was wearing a butter yellow dress made of some soft material, with a round neck and an empire waistline. She glanced around and saw that the party was in full swing. Wizards and witches were laughing, playing music, eating finger foods from the long, white draped table at the corner, and swinging back shots of Ogden's Best Firewhisky. 'Looks like I'm a little late.' She said.

'Just a little,' Harry assured her. 'Some people turned up early. Get yourself a drink- I can see Cho over there; I better go say hey to her.'

'Don't let Ginny see you,' Hermione said, with a grin and set off to find herself a drink. She caught sight of Ron, sitting with a bottle of vodka in front of him, and Lavender beside.

'Hi, Ron,' she said, 'having fun?'

'Loads,' he said, with a very unlikely smirk. 'Did you see Harry? He's got a truckload of presents.'

'I just gave him mine.' Hermione told him. 'Anyway, I'm getting myself a drink.' She waved to them and walked to the table for a glass. She poured herself some vodka (she never had liked Firewhisky very much) and glanced around for a table.

She caught sight of Sirius, sitting at a table that was piled high with food. Sitting beside him was a skinny blonde woman with a bright pink dress that was so tight Hermione wondered how she could breathe. She walked over to them, just as the woman was saying, 'Darling, I have to go powder my nose, will you give me a moment, _please_.'

Sirius offered her a charming smile, and she got up and left. Then he turned and smiled at Hermione.

'Hey,' he said, easily, 'Glad to see you could make it.'

'I wouldn't miss it for anything,' she told him, sipping her vodka. 'Harry's 18th? I'd rather die. You seem to be having a lot of fun.' She inclined her head with a quick birdlike movements towards the direction in which the blonde had set off.

Sirius rolled her eyes.

'Her name is Cristobel,' he said, in a voice that suggested that should explain everything to her. 'She's twenty seven years old and unemployed. I gather that her father is a rich tycoon.'

'That would explain a lot,' Hermione agreed. 'Mind if I sit here till Lady Charming gets back?'

'You have my permission till after that as well,' Sirius said, generously. 'She was beginning to bore me.'

Hermione sat down beside him, and raised a hand to her mouth in mock surprise. 'Bore you?' she asked. 'She's blonde, she's wearing a pink dress, and she's dumb. How could she bore you.'

'You're forgetting she is also very well endowed,' Sirius reminded, holding up his hands. 'But she still manages.'

Hermione laughed. Cristobel was obviously not up to par with the Most Noble House of Black. She finished her vodka and glanced around.

'There's another bottle here,' Sirius said, dragging it towards him and pouring a generous quantity into her glass. 'You drink it neat?'

'I love it neat,' she replied, taking a swig and then glanced up. 'Nice tie,' she said.

Sirius tweaked the navy blue tie and grinned. 'D'you like it? Molly told me I had to dress formal, since it was my godson's birthday. It's actually Remus's.'

'He has good taste,' Hermione said. Sirius wore the tie casually over a half-unbuttoned white silk shirt, and charcoal gray pants. 'However, I don't think that's what Molly meant by formal.'

'Maybe not,' Sirius said, taking a shot from the bottle. Hermione finished her second glass. She was definitely feeling a little tipsy now. She leaned back against her chair, and slipped out of her high heeled shoes, savoring the feeling.

'Why are you taking of your shoes?' Sirius asked, glancing under the table.

'They're killing me,' Hermione replied. 'My feet _breathe _this way.'

'Right,' said Sirius, and then glancing around, 'Damn, Cristobel seems to have found someone else.'

The blonde was standing beside the finger food table, absolutely wrapped around a tall brown haired boy, who Hermione seemed to remember as a Ravenclawe from their year.

'He's about nine years younger than her.' She informed Sirius. 'He was in our year. His name was- Terry Boot, I think.'

'Sucker,' Sirius said, idly, setting down his drink. 'Our bottle's over. Shall I get more firewhisky?'

'Vodka,' Hermione said, and Sirius summoned it with his wand. He uncapped it, and began pouring out for both of them.

'So how come here late?' he asked, putting the bottle back on the table, and licking his fingers where the vodka had spilt.

Hermione did not answer at once. She was momentarily distracted by the sight of Sirius licking his fingers. She shook her head as though to clear it, and said, 'I was writing to the Ministry.'

Sirius stopped abruptly, mid-lick. He glanced over his finger, and raised his eyebrow. 'What?'

'I have a job interview.'

'You're working for the Ministry?'

'Wizengamot, maybe,' Hermione said, a little proudly. 'I have my interview the day after tomorrow. They think my qualifications are good enough.'

Sirius shook his head. He was clearly too drunk to talk about sensible jobs at the moment, but Hermione sensed that something was disturbing him. She decided to ask him about it later. Instead, she said, 'Cristobel's vanished.

It was true. The table where she and Terry had been standing had been occupied by Parvati and her boyfriend.

'I know exactly where she is,' Sirius said, complacently.

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

'She's pushed up against the men's bathroom wall being fucked against the tiles by Terry Boot.' Sirius said, and then explained, 'I was the fortunate receiver of an invitation only a while back.'

Hermione burst out laughing, loud enough that Ron threw her a concerned look over Lavender's shoulder.

'You don't say,' she said, still chuckling. 'And here I though you were an Occlumens.'

Sirius grinned. 'It's the power of sex, lover,' he said, waggling his eyebrows, and Hermione began to laugh again.

He glanced at the bottle. It was empty again.

'We've finished another bottle,' he said, dubiously. 'How did that happen?'

'Because you're drunk!' Hermione crowed, pointing at him and proving that she was very much so as well.

'Maybe,' Sirius admitted, and summoned a third bottle.

'You're not going to puke, are you?' he asked, anxiously, as Hermione downed her entire glass in one.

'Trust me, I've got over that phase,' she assured him, pouring herself another.

'You're eighteen,' he pointed out.

She hiccupped indignantly. 'I began drinking when I was fifteen! I might not have much capacity but I certainly don't puke.'

'My, my,' he drawled. 'All right, I'll take your word for it. I'm just sick of little witches asking me for drinks and then puking all over me.'

Hermione glared at him, and then forgot why. To cover her confusion, she picked up the bottle and poured the remainder into her glass. Sirius summoned the fourth.

It was as the fourth bottle was getting over, that Hermione suggested they go dance. A slowish tune had started, and several couples were revolving on the floor. Sirius looked surprised.

'You want to dance with me?' he asked.

'Didn't I just say that?' Hermione asked, frowning. Sirius wasn't able to make up his mind as to whether the question was rhetoric or she really didn't remember.

'All right,' he said, getting up and offering Hermione his hand. Taking it, she was conscious of a slow blossoming happiness, as he led her to the dance floor and slipped her into position. She placed her hands on his shoulders, and felt his around her waist.

They were silent for a while, both revolving, and listening to nothing but the lilting music. The lights which were always dim now were positively black. A faint blue flame shone from one corner.

'You're a terrible dancer,' Sirius told her.

'Thank you,' she said, beaming. Sirius laughed and drew her closer, so that her head rested on his chest.

Hermione decided she rather liked the feeling.


	2. Waking Up

**AN- I'm conscious that some people don't take the title Apartheid in a light way. I'm not referring to any racial segregation whatsoever. Being an Indian myself, I never would. Take it in an easier way, like comical chaos. Please? For me?**

**And thank you so much for the reviews. You have no idea how encouraging they are!**

CHAPTER 2

Hermione was conscious of a splitting headache as she woke up. The sun seemed to be shining right in her eyes, and her brow felt viciously hot. She frowned and opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was her butter-yellow dress, one of her favorites, lying carelessly tossed on the floor. She mentally chided herself for not hanging it up after changing into her pajamas.

Still without moving, she sighed and wondered what time she had got home last night. She had been so drunk…she frowned, and wondered if she had locked the door.

Suddenly she noticed that the tiles on the floor were pale green. This was not her home.

Her mind went into a quick overdrive. Had she passed out last night? Had someone carried her up here? Where had she seen these pale green tiles before? All of a sudden it came to her- the rooms at the Leaky Cauldron were tiled in that color.

So she was in the Leaky Cauldron. She probably had passed out last night. Someone had carried her up here. She wondered if it had been Sirius.

So why was her dress on the floor?

And what was she wearing?

At the same moment she realized that she was complete naked she felt something stir in the sheets before her.

Hermione stiffened. She had got drunk and _gone to bed with someone_? It seemed surreal. She squeezed her eyes shut, and prayed that it wasn't Ron. This wasn't the first time they had woken up naked with no memories of how it happened, except that it had been finely laced with alcohol the whole way.

But even as she thought that, she dismissed the idea. If it were Ron, he'd be snoring the heavens down right now. The man beside her was breathing deeply and slowly.

He moved a bit more. It struck her that he was probably waking up, and she was oddly relieved that she was going to find out who it was. She steeled herself to turn around.

'Hermione?'

Her eyes flew open. She knew that voice! 'Sirius?' she said, tentatively.

'Oh my god,' she heard him say. 'Oh my god.' There was a rustle and thump. She thought she heard him step out of bed and move around a bit. 'What are you doing?' she asked.

'Putting on my boxers,' he replied. 'Don't turn.'

She didn't. She hadn't been very inclined to in the first place. But the mention of boxers made her heart do a quick thump, and then return to its normal beat.

'Okay,' he said, 'Okay, cool. Pull that sheet around you if you want to get up.'

She did so, and sat up in bed, turning around for him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her, wearing a pair of black boxers. For a minute she thought he was crying, and then she realized he was leaning over to pick up his wand from the bedside table.

He pointed it to his head and murmured something. Then he turned to her. 'Hangover?' he asked.

She nodded silently, and he waved the wand at her, so her head cleared and she felt a little fresher. The totally surrealism of the situation was coming to her now.

'Um,' she said, uncertainly.

He turned to look at her, a little confused look in his eyes. 'Wait here,' he told her, 'I'll call down to Tom to send up some breakfast and then we'll talk. Do you want to shower?'

'No, its okay,' she said. He nodded and getting up, pulling a bathrobe on and went downstairs. When he came back, he was holding a tray piled high with scones, raspberry jam, and coffee with cream.

'Here,' he put it in the middle of the bed, and slinging off his bathrobe, sat down across her. Leaning forward and pulling the sheet around her a little tighter, Hermione wondered why he preferred to talk in his underwear.

He spread jam on a scone and handed it to her. Hermione bit into it, and watched as he poured himself some coffee and took a long, shuddering draught,

'Do you remember?' he asked her, suddenly.

She shook her head. 'No,' she said, honestly, 'The last thing I remember was drinking at the table, after- who? Cristobel left. Oh no, wait, we danced after that.'

Sirius nodded. He wasn't as carefree and easy as he had been last night. On the whole, he looked a little worried.

'Was it-.' He hesitated. 'Was it your first time?'

Hermione shook her head frantically, mouth full of scone. She swallowed it quickly. 'No, no, nothing like that,' she said, hastily. 'It's okay, Sirius, it really is. It was just- one of those things that happen.'

Altogether, apart from the weirdness of it all, she wasn't too bothered. In fact, probably years from now, she felt she'd laugh at it. Sirius and she hadn't been particularly close. There was no deep friendship to ruin, the way it had happened with Ron. And face it, she told herself, he's quite good looking.

He, however, didn't seem to be taking it very lightly. He looked vaguely disturbed.

'Sirius?' she asked, tentatively. 'What- why are you-?'

He turned very suddenly, and said, 'I'm sorry, Hermione. I should have known better than to-.'

'It's not like that,' she interrupted. 'It isn't like you seduced me against my will, or-.'

He winced. 'Knowing me that's quite possible.'

Hermione fought down the urge to grin, knowing it would be out of place. 'No,' she said, firmly, 'I would have wanted it too, or else-.'

'I took advantage of your drunkenness,' he said, miserably.

'Of course not,' Hermione snorted. 'Come on, there's no need to take it like-.'

'You don't understand,' Sirius said, shaking his head. He looked almost panicky now. 'You're years younger than me, and-.'

'I'm a big girl,' she said, evenly. 'Really, I'm sure this isn't the first time you've found yourself in such a position?'

He grinned shiftily. 'Well,' he said, in a tone that said it all, 'There might have been a few times.' He sneaked a sideways glance at her. 'What about you?'

She smiled broadly. 'This is the third time,' she informed him. Sirius stared at her, his eyes silently asking her the question.

'Ron,' she said, biting into a scone. 'After we broke up. Once after the Masquerade ball, and once after one of Mrs. Weasley's' eggnog dinner.'

Sirius grimaced generously. 'That,' he said, 'is something I could have lived without knowing.'

Hermione laughed out rightly, and marveled that he was able to make her so do in such circumstances. Finally, she finished her cup of coffee, and then began to get out of bed, holding the sheet around.

'I'll change in the bathroom,' she said, bending to pick up her dress. 'There's no point staying here. It's better if we don't tell anyone, don't you think?'

She turned around, and found Sirius gaping at her, his mouth wide open and his eyes stretched to their furthest.

'What?' she asked, frowning. Wordlessly, he pointed at her left hand.

Hermione glanced down. She was clutching her dress in her fist. Against the soft yellow, she could see a sparkling ring on her fourth finger.


	3. The Marriage Registrar

**Sorry that so many of you don't like the title. Hope you like the story at least. **

**CHAPTER 3**

Hermione frowned at the ring on her finger. It was made of pale gold, with a small diamond at the centre. Looking a little closer, she realized that what she had taken for pale gold was actually some cheap yellow metal, and that the diamond was probably cut glass. It was like something you could find at a gypsy stall.

'What's this?' she demanded. 'How- this isn't mine?'

Her eyes trailed accusingly towards Sirius. 'Is it yours?'

Sirius did not answer. Hermione saw that his face had a look of most abject horror on it. He was looking down at his own hand. Following his gaze, she saw a pale gold ring on his finger as well.

'Sirius!' she said, loudly. 'What's this? Why- where?' She trailed off uncertainly.

Sirius inhaled twice. 'I- I think,' he said, huskily, 'I think that we got married.'

Hermione tried to force herself to laugh, but she couldn't. The fact was, as ludicrous as it sounded, the notion seemed to be possible- even probable.

'No,' she said, quietly, 'No, we- why would we get married? We're not- we don't-.'

'We were drunk,' Sirius said, slowly. He seemed to be trying to understand the repercussions of what they had done. 'We- we slept together, I suppose, we thought that it was- I don't know, a good idea, or some-.'

'A good idea?' Hermione interrupted. 'A good _idea_?'

She was staring at him with a slightly manic expression.

'Hermione,' he said, quickly, seeing the look, 'We've made a big mistake, I-.'

'We haven't got married,' she said, quietly, and firmly. 'It's absolutely impossible.'

Sirius sighed. 'Look, I want to believe that as much as you,' he told her. He paused, and then said, 'Get dressed.'

She stared at him. 'What?'

'You heard me. Put that dress back on. We'll go to the Ministry right now, and look up the marriage register. We'll know for sure then. If it were just a stupid thing about exchanging rings, it won't be legal, and we're free to go.'

'Where do we get the register from?' Hermione asked, doubtfully.

'It's in an office, I know it, just hurry up and get dressed,' he said, vaguely. 'I'll use the bathroom.'

Picking up his clothes, that he had tossed onto the other side of the bed, he stomped off and closed the door behind him.

Hermione stared after him, her fingers tingling. She couldn't believe what was happening. Getting drunk, stumbling into bed, that was shocking enough, but still something she could take in. But getting married? She was eighteen. For god's sake, she couldn't _possibly _be married.

She dragged a hand through his hair, and wondered about how Sirius felt about this. Initially, she knew, he had felt sure as hell guilty. They hadn't been close, but she supposed she had always been Harry's Best Friend to him. But now? This was different, and she had no clue whether he was angry or upset or frustrated.

More than that, though, there was a persistent and niggling curiosity that demanded to know _how _this had happened. They had been dancing. She closed her eyes and tried to remember, dropping the sheet to the floor as she lifted her hands to her head. She had had her head on his chest, he had been laughing, holding her close. They had both been drunk…

But she simply couldn't remember anything more.

She bent down and picked up her dress.

oOo

'This is a waste of time,' Sirius growled.

Hermione mastered her impatience. She knew that his bad mood was only because of their sudden discovery.

'I have to change,' she told him. 'I can't go to the Ministry wearing an evening dress. It's okay for you, you're wearing pants and a tie.'

'_Why_ can't you go to the Ministry in that dress? It's pretty enough.'

'It isn't right,' Hermione said, sternly, 'and anyway, I'm going to go for an interview tomorrow. I don't want them to think I'm a floozy.'

Sirius rolled his eyes. 'All right,' he said, and looked at the building they were standing in front of. It was in front of a busy London street. 'You live here?'

'Fourteenth floor,' she said, and dragged him inside to the elevator.

'What's this?' he asked.

Hermione ignored him, and punched the button. To Sirius's horror, the box jerked and began to float upwards. He gave a little yelp, and began to pull out his wand, when Hermione put her hand on his arm.

'Don't worry,' she said, 'It's a Muggle thing.'

He looked doubtful. 'What keeps it up? A Levitation Charm?'

'Ropes.'

'Ropes?' he yelped. 'But they'll snap! How much do you weigh?'

She rolled her eyes. 'Steel ropes.' She said. 'I go on these everyday. And anyway, here we are.'

The doors opened, and Sirius rushed out, Hermione following. She walked him along the corridor to her apartment, and opened the door with the key in her handbag.

'I like it,' Sirius said, approvingly, as they walked in. The flat was small, but prettily furnished in light brown colors. 'Where's the furniture from?'

'My grandmother's house,' she said. 'Wait here while I change.'

'Hurry up!' Sirius called, and she vanished into one of the rooms, leaving him standing with his hands in his pockets next to a painting of an abstract bronze woman.

Sirius let out a breath when she was gone, and tried to relax. He had been absolutely horrified when he had woken up. Last night, he had seen Hermione as a beautiful, intelligent woman. The liquor had probably brought that along. But this morning, when he woke up sober and with a splitting headache, she was suddenly the thirteen year old girl who had flown on Buckbeak to rescue him again. She was suddenly Harry's best friend. And he had taken advantage of her.

But it got much, much worse when he saw the ring, and realized what they had done. It had come to him very suddenly, and he was sure without a doubt. They had got married. They had probably gone to some floozy little-

'I'm done,' Hermione announced, coming out. She was wearing black pants and a white linen shirt, with black heels. Looking at them carefully for a moment, Sirius said, 'Manolo Blahniks.'

Hermione blinked at him. 'What?'

'I said,' he repeated, clearly enjoying himself, 'Manolo Blahniks.'

Hermione looked astonished. 'How did you know?'

He shrugged. 'Muggle girlfriend made me buy them forever. You look good. What have you done to your hair?'

Her hand leapt self-consciously to the curly mass that she had thrown back into a ponytail. 'Nothing.' She said.

'It was straighter last night.'

'The charms wears off,' she told him, 'Shall we go?'

He looked around for a fire place, but she said, 'I don't have Floo, this is a Muggle apartment remember? We'll have to apparate.'

Sirius nodded, and touched her hand. It felt soft in his. He closed his eyes, and apparated them both to the Ministry.

oOo

As Hermione and Sirius walked into the Atrium, having used the Visitor's Entrance to get into the Ministry, she was silently glad that she had changed. Wizards and witches walking past her were all dressed smartly in robes, coats and trousers. Beside her, Sirius caused a bit of a contrast. His shirt was crumpled on his broad shoulder, unbuttoned at the collar as usual, and his tie was skewed. Several of the people passing him threw him nasty looks. Hermione knew that despite the Ministry having issued a Warrant of Pardon, there were several who still considered him an outlaw.

_I might be married to an outlaw_.

'What was that?' Sirius asked. He had been looking grim ever since entering the Ministry, but now he was looking down at her with an amused expression.

'What?'

'You just called me an outlaw.'

Hermione flushed. She hadn't realized that she had spoken out loud. Sirius grinned seeing the color rush to her face.

'I have got a legal pardon, you know,' he reminded her. He seemed to find the whole thing very funny.

'Yes, I do,' she said, in a little voice. They stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed behind them; they were alone.

'On the other hand,' he said, huskily, and Hermione glanced up quickly, 'I know I am extremely dangerous. Dangerous and charming, that's me,' he pretended to flex a muscle, and Hermione snorted.

'Charming,' she said, 'charming, right.'

He cocked an eyebrow at her. The lift was still smoothly moving up. 'Seemed to work last night,' he said, bitingly.

'I was drunk,' she reminded him.

He nodded. 'Yes, that much I remember.' He glanced up to make sure they were nowhere near their destination, and said, 'I feel really guilty about this, Hermione. I might joke, but-.' He picked up her left hand and gently touched her fingers. 'I know how you must feel about this, and I promise you, we'll figure it out.'

She smiled at him. 'I know we will,' she said, 'And it's time you stopped feeling guilty. I'm a big girl.'

'You're twenty years younger than me.' He said.

'I'm probably smarter,' she countered, and he laughed. 'All though last night was definitely an exception.' She looked a little troubled. 'I'd really like to remember what happened, you know.'

'We'll work that out,' he said, 'We'll check the registrar, first, and then we'll try and find out what happened. There are loads of ways to bring back memories.'

Hermione nodded, cheering up a little. The lift jolted to a stop, and a cool female voice said, '_Level Fifteen, Department of Marriage, Death and Birth Certification._ The doors slid open, and Hermione and Sirius began walking down the corridor to a large room. A woman with black hair stood behind it, ruffling through some papers.

'Excuse me,' Sirius said, walking up to her. She glanced up and her mouth fell open as she recognized him. She stared for a moment.

'Mr. Black,' she said finally, a little breathless. 'I- um- how may I help you?'

'My friend and I-.' he gestured towards Hermione, 'Would like to see the Marriage Certificates issued last night. That's possible, isn't it?'

'Well,' she said, doubtfully, 'There's no rule disallowing it, but-.'

'Excellent,' Sirius said, loudly. 'Lead the way.'

'Oh, I don't know,' she said, looking a little flustered. She glanced from Sirius to Hermione.

'_Please_,' Hermione said, urgently. The woman sighed and then relented.

'All right,' she said, 'Go into that small room in the right. It's more of a broom cupboard actually. But for God's sake look it up in there. If my boss comes-.'

'We'll make ourselves scarce,' Sirius promised, and grabbing Hermione's hand, he pulled her towards the door. It was a very small room- actually more of a broom cupboard- and was lined with folders on three sides. The folders were marked according to date.

'Here,' Sirius said, 'that's yesterday's date. God, it's a tight fit.'

'Let me read it.' Hermione said. Sirius moved a little so she could wedge past his chest, and she found herself pushed up against it. Trying to ignore how hard and warm it felt against her back she found the bunch of certificates, and began to rifle through them.

'Nope,' she said, 'Nope, nope- oh, will you look at that, Hannah Abbot got married yest-.'

'Guess what,' Sirius whispered, 'I don't care. Hurry up or that woman's boss will come.'

Hermione sighed, and continued going through them. A moment later, she said, in a strange voice, 'Here.'

Sirius jerked, and she could feel it all down his body, which was pressed up tightly against hers.

'Here,' she said, again, handing it to him. 'Here it is.'

Looping his arms around her waist, Sirius grasped the certificate.

_Sirius Black weds Hermione Granger._

He glanced down to her, eyes filled with remorse.

'Hermione,' he said, 'I-.'

But at that moment he was cut off. They heard a door banging outside, and a loud voice snapped, 'Carla, why the hell is the certificate cupboard unlocked?"

oOo

Sirius stopped speaking, and Hermione tensed. 'The boss,' she whispered, 'It's the boss.'

Sirius looked a little irritated. 'Who cares?' he murmured, bending down so that his breath brushed her ear. 'Let's just go-.'

'No,' she whispered, violently. 'If I get caught here- I have an interview, tomorrow! Let's- let's apparate.'

Sirius shook his head. 'They'll hear the noise,' he said, 'If you're serious about your interview, just stay put and keep quiet.' He wrapped two arms around her and despite the situation, Hermione felt warm and happy again, like when he had led her to the dance floor the last night.

Outside, Carla was stammering, 'I- I don't know Mr. Richards, it just-.'

'Good heavens, girl,' he snarled. 'You can't leave it unlocked. Lock it right now, and hurry up, we have to go for the Meeting at Timberland's office. Jenny's taking over you for a while.'

Hermione and Sirius glanced at each other in horror, but before they could do anything, they heard Carla seal the door with a Collaportus spell, and leave the room with her boss. Sirius let go of Hermione and flattened his hands against the door.

'It's no use,' Hermione whispered, miserably. 'She's sealed it. And the other's girl's coming.' As she said that, they heard a door open, and a girl enter, humming.

'Damn it,' Sirius growled. 'Okay, here's the plan, we'll Apparate, then she can come and open the door if she hears the crack, but there won't be anyone there.'

'Okay,' Hermione whispered. Then, struck with an idea, 'What if we take the Certificate? Then they won't know, we won't really be married, right?'

He shook his head grimly. 'They have other records.' He said. 'Let's just go.'

He touched her again, but this time, by wrapping his arms around and drawing him to his chest, like last night. Hermione had a sudden urge to wrap her arms around his neck, but he was already turning on the spot to Apparate.

Nothing happened.

They were stuck.


	4. Broom Cupboard Chats

**CHAPTER 4**

For a moment, Sirius was very close to panicking. Hermione saw the danger signs and snapped a hand over his mouth before he could yell out.

'Sh!' she hissed, sternly. 'Someone's out there, it's the replacement girl, she'll hear you!'

Sirius nodded, and closed his mouth under her palm. She withdrew it.

'Sorry,' he said, running a hand through his hair. 'Almost lost it. Why didn't it work?'

Hermione looked helpless. 'I don't know.' She confessed. 'Maybe it's some extra security or something.'

'We should know about that.' Sirius said, frowning. 'Anyway, there's nothing we can do now but wait.'

Hermione looked around in dismay. 'You're right.' She said. 'If we can't apparate from here, then it's probably anti-magic as well.'

Sirius pulled out his wand and murmured Lumos. Nothing happened.

'You're right,' he said. 'What morons the Ministry are. Protection on a bloody broom cupboard. Might as well try and sit down.'

He edged around her a bit, and bent his knees with some difficulty, owing to the lack of space. Somehow, he managed to get into a cross-legged position.

'What about me?' Hermione asked. 'You've taken up all the room!'

He grinned and pointed at his lap. 'Sit.' He said.

Hermione stared at him for a moment. The expression on his face was one she wasn't accustomed to. She normally knew him as a concerned Godfather, and sometimes responsible adult. But right now, he looked playful, teasing and even…flirty.

Sirius seemed to read her mind. He raised an eyebrow. 'We are married, you know.' He pointed out. 'And I'm willing to bet last night was something worth remembering.'

The easy way in which he said it made her chuckle. Tensing a little, she leaned back into his lap.

'Do you know,' he said, conversationally, 'That there are so many knots in your back that it's like a bunch of sailor's ropes? Why are you so tense?'

'Nothing,' she said, quickly, trying to relax. The trouble was, his chest felt extremely hard and hot behind her. It wasn't easy, relaxing to that.

'I see,' he said. She had a sinking feeling that he did see. His voice was playful.

She leaned back a little, just to prove her point and shut her eyes. The shirt felt smooth against her back.

'You know what I can smell on your shirt?' she said, after a while. His silence in itself was an enquiry. 'Me,' she told him.

She didn't see his face, but she sensed that he was surprised. 'I was wearing this last night.' He said. 'We danced. We must have hugged, kissed-.'

He broke off, but two hands snuck around her waist and locked there. Hermione didn't know what to think. All she knew was that the marriage certificate had made it seem so final, so concrete.

And he definitely was hot.

'You don't still feel guilty, do you?' she asked.

He paused. 'It takes a little time,' he said, softly, 'For me to see you in a different way, from- from what I saw earlier. You're not a thirteen year old girl anymore, you're a woman. But I'll get over it.'

'I don't want you to feel guilty,' she told him. 'Or to feel like you took advantage of me or anything. I'm not the kind of girl who can get taken advantage of. If I was in that bed, I wanted it as much.'

'I was the older one,' he said, 'I should have been more responsible.'

Hermione laughed slowly. 'Since when have you been responsible?'

After a moment of silence, she realized that she must have hurt him. His arms slinked away from around her waist, and his thighs tightened a little under her.

Sighing, she turned around in his lap, and saw that he had a strange look on his face.

'I was kidding,' she said.

'Evidently.' His voice was a little frosty.

'Don't take it like that, Sirius.'

'But isn't in the truth?' he asked her. 'You've always thought me irresponsible. Even back when you were fifteen.'

Hermione looked him straight in the eye. 'You're right,' she said, 'You did seem irresponsible. But I'm not the only one who's grown up since then.'

Sirius glanced at her, and then looked down at his hands, which were knotted on his lap behind her. After a moment, he unknotted them, and pushed her back into their previous position, locking them around her waist.

'Thank you,' he said, 'for being honest with me.'

Hermione smiled a little, and leaned back against him. It surprised her that she was feeling so comfortable in his arms like this. She had never seen him in such a light before, but now, she decided without even remembering, he had been a fantastic lover.

'Carla will come back,' Sirius said quietly, 'And after we get out, we'll figure out some ways to get our memories back.'

'Would a pensive work?' Hermione asked, doubtfully. 'Our memories are gone because of the vodka, but our thoughts are still there right.'

He frowned. 'You know what, you might have a point. We'll try it when we get out of here. I have Dumbledore's old pensive at Grimmauld Place.'

'How come?' Hermione asked.

He shrugged. 'Harry gave it to me after seeing all those memories, the day of the battle.' Hermione sat silent. She knew what he was talking about.

After a few minutes, he asked, 'Were you disappointed, when you woke up?'

She shook her head. 'In all honesty, I wasn't. I was just afraid it would be Ron, you know.' Sirius made a face. 'No, really! It's happened before and it completely ruined our friendship.'

'Lucky we didn't have anything close,' Sirius said, recklessly. 'Nothing a marriage could destroy.'

'Oh, I don't know, I'm feeling pretty close right now,' she said, dreamily, leaning back.

He was silent for a bit more time, and then said, 'You're very different.'

'From what I used to be?'

'More like what I thought you would be. I didn't look close enough, I guess.'

'What did you think I'd be?' she asked, curiously.

'Oh, I don't know,' he said, airily, 'All- innocent and virgin, I guess. Someone who didn't like sex- I mean-.'

She laughed softly, conscious that the girl was still typing outside. 'Sirius! I'm just a normal person.'

'And obviously a good lover, or I wouldn't have bed you last night.' He said, proudly. She smiled.

'You're really something, you know that? I never noticed before how funny you were.'

'You know what,' he said, 'I've been thinking the same thing.'


	5. Ramifications

**CHAPTER 5**

Sirius decided that they would have lunch in the Ministry Cafeteria. After being let out of the cupboard by a very apologetic Carla, he felt famished.

'I want to go home,' Hermione frowned. 'I have notes to go-.'

'Shut up,' he said, absently, pressing a button in the lift. 'We have to be back here in the afternoon, anyway. Might as well eat in the Cafeteria. It isn't that bad. They have nice ham.'

'I've converted to vegetarianism,' Hermione said coldly.

'A falafel then. Something grassy.'

'Why do we have to be back here in the afternoon?'

'Annulment Registrar,' Sirius said, and Hermione felt silent.

As if sensing her thoughts, he reached out and gently touched her hand with rough fingers. Hermione looked up.

'The sooner this finishes,' he said, quietly, 'The better it is. We can both go back to normalcy. And most importantly, Molly will never have to find out so I can retain my balls.'

Hermione laughed. 'Mrs. Weasley wouldn't do that!'

'You'd be surprised,' he said, darkly. 'Here we are. Go snag that table, it's closest to the food.'

Hermione rolled her eyes, but followed him as he sat down at the table, and magically ordered a ham and cheese sandwich. Then he looked up. 'What about you?'

'I think I'll settle for the falafel,' she said, so he ordered one as well.

When the food appeared, Hermione took a big bite out of her falafel and felt a little better.

'You were hungry weren't you?' Sirius asked, watching her over the rim of his sandwich.

'Unbelievably so,' she replied. 'I'm nervous about the Annulment Registrar, by the way.'

'So am I,' he confided. 'We make a good match. Don't talk about that, though- what's this interview you're going for tomorrow.'

Hermione, who was watching his face closely, saw an expression that she felt was very familiar.

'It's for a position in the Wizengamot,' she said, slowly. 'I'll have to do a four year course.'

She continued to watch his face. He had drawn her lips a little tighter, and his eyes were a shade darker. His face seemed more drawn.

'Oh,' he said, 'Is that what you want to do?'

'Yes,' Hermione replied, and all of a sudden, she remembered where she had seen the expression before. It had been last night, when they were drinking at the table. She had told him about the interview, and that time as well this expression had fleetingly appeared across his face.

She cleared her throat, and said, slowly, 'Sirius?'

He looked up. 'Yeah?'

'Can I ask you something?'

'You needn't be so polite.'

'Why don't you want me to apply for a post in the Wizengamot?'

Sirius jerked. A large slice of ham fell out of his sandwich, and landed on his plate. He picked it up, and carefully slid it between the bread, before deliberately licking his fingers and ignoring her question.

'Well?' she said, a little sharply.

'I have no clue what you're talking about,' he said, serenely, licking his fingers. Suddenly, Hermione remembered the way he had been licking them last night, after he poured of her vodka.

'I think you do,' she said, quietly. 'You just had a funny look on your face. You had it last night as well, when I told you I was coming for an interview. I wasn't sure what it was all about last night, but I think I know now. Why shouldn't I apply for a post?'

'Hermione,' he said, evenly, but she could tell he was beginning to lose his temper. 'I honestly don't know what you're talking about.'

'Fine,' Hermione said, 'Fine. I'll let it drop. But let me assure you, I will find out what all this is about.'

Sirius didn't reply. He chose instead to finish the last crust of his sandwich and order a beer.

Watching him thoughtfully, Hermione suddenly became aware that she was remembering a little more about last night than before. She frowned, and concentrated on the memory of Sirius licking his fingers, pouring her more vodka.

'_You drink it neat?'_

'Why are you staring at me?'

Hermione glanced up, and saw that he was staring at her with amusement.

'Trying to remember,' she said.

Sirius huffed impatiently. 'I told you,' he said, shortly, 'We don't think there's anything wrong with the Ministry-.'

'I was referring to last night,' Hermione said, coldly. Just as she anticipated, Sirius shut up and looked doubtfully at her.

'Oh,' he said.

'Who's we?' she asked him.

'What?'

'We? You referred to you and someone else not worrying about the Min-.'

'They're taking so bloody long with my beer,' Sirius said loudly, and getting up he stomped off.

Hermione sighed, and finished her falafel. She took a sip of apple juice, and frowned, trying to figure out what he meant. As she did so, she suddenly remembered a date, a few weeks earlier, when she had come into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place and found Sirius and Remus deep in talk.

'_It's odd,' Remus said, 'But there's nothing we can do about it.'_

'_I haven't forgiven them, you know.' Sirius's voice was a growl, low and threatening._

'_We could ask Tonks,' Remus said. 'She could check with Kingsley- he's very high-.'_

They had broken off the minute she entered. But as she mulled over the conversation, Hermione couldn't help wondering what they were referring to, and why it had anything to do with her interview.

oOo

'My beer took a long time to find,' Sirius explained. 'Have you finished your falafel?'

'Fifteen minutes back,' Hermione said, coldly. 'Hurry up, we better go to the Annulment Registrar.'

Sirius handed her a napkin to wipe her hands, and snuck a concerned look from the corner of her eyes. Seeing from her business like movements that she was unlikely to continue with the conversation they had been having he relaxed a little.

'Do you want something to drink?'

'No thank you,' she said. 'I'll pay for that.'

He didn't object, but let her put down the money for her falafel. He was bored of girly conversations of who got to pay during the date. Experience had taught him that making a girl pay for the food, no matter how many times she insisted she would, was enough to cause a little eruption. To his surprise, Hermione took it easily and flung the money down.

'I'm impressed,' she said, mildly, as they walked out of the Cafeteria and down the corridor to the Atrium.

'Not a new phenomenon, but how so?' he asked, glancing down.

'You let me pay.'

'You asked to,' Sirius pointed out.

'I know, but that has always been the most irritating discussing during dates. I don't like boys who don't let me pay for myself.'

'I'm not a boy,' he said, swelling up. 'I'm a man. And incidentally, you ate that falafel, so you bloody well pay for it.'

Hermione laughed and grabbed his hand. 'I like you Sirius,' she said, smiling and smacking his forearm.

He smiled dryly. 'Doesn't everyone? Come on, love, get off my arm so I can press the button.'

Hermione unwrapped herself from his arm (very muscular, said a voice at the back of her head) and he directed the lift to the fifth floor. The Annulment Registrar was down a dingy corridor. It had a grilled door, through which Sirius and Hermione could see a thin, weedy looking wizard with peppery hair sitting behind a desk.

'Um,' Sirius said, as they approached the grilled door. 'Am I supposed to knock? How-? Hello!' he said a little loudly. The man behind the desk started and looked up. He wore a pair of thin round glasses, and had a peevish twist to his lip.

'Yes?' his said, thinly. 'How can I help you?'

'You could open the door for a start.' Sirius said dryly. The thin man huffed and got up from behind his desk. He slid the grilled door back into the wall.

'Please come in,' he said in the same reedy voice. 'Would you like tea? Coffee?'

'No thank you, nothing,' Hermione said quickly. 'We just need some help. We need out marriage annulled.'

The thin man watched with interest. This was the first couple to come to his office that weren't crying hysterically or shouting at each other.

'I see,' he said, 'Have a seat. My name is Henry Jenkins.'

'What do we have to do?' Sirius growled. 'We don't have much time, Henry-.'

'Please call me Mr. Jenkins.'

Hermione saw warning signs of an outburst from Sirius and quickly cut in.

'Mr. Jenkins,' she said, quickly. 'We really need an annulment, how fast can we have this done?'

'Are you both overage?' Jenkins asked.

Sirius snorted. 'Obviously.'

'Well, then, I don't think it should take more than couple of days,' he said, and both Sirius and Hermione heaved sighs of relief. Jenkins pulled out some long forms and a plumy quill.

'I'll just fill in these particulars, you sign at the bottom, and we can have your licenses revoked in no time at all.'

'Thank you,' Hermione said, earnestly.

'Just doing my job. Now- my dear-.' He turned to Hermione. 'Full name?'

'Hermione Jean Granger- sorry, Black.'

'And yours?' He turned to Sirius.

'Sirius Javier Black.'

'Thank you, thank you. Age?'

'Eighteen,' said Hermione.

'Thirty eight,' said Sirius.

Jenkins looked up, with raised eyebrows, but chose not to comment.

'Hm,' he said, nodding. 'And how long have you been married?'

Sirius and Hermione exchanged uneasy looks.

'Um,' said Hermione, 'I'm not very sure, but I'd estimate about thirteen hours.'

Jenkins dropped his quill and splashed ink all over his desk. He looked at them through navy-splattered eye glasses.

'Oh dear,' Sirius said, obviously trying very hard not to laugh. 'Do you want me to Scourgify that for you?'

'I can do it myself!' Jenkins said, indignantly. 'My god! Thirteen hours! What a laugh.'

'Well,' said Hermione, uneasily.

'Just write it down,' Sirius said impatiently, 'So we can sign the damned form.'

'Most certainly not!' Jenkins clucked. 'I will do no such thing.'

Hermione and Sirius blinked.

'The very idea of it!'

'Um- why not?' Hermione asked.

Jenkins raised a hand to his brow, and proceeded to unknowingly smear more ink on his face.

'My god,' he said, bitterly, 'No idea of the rules whatsoever, have you?'

'Rules?' Sirius said, apprehensively. 'What rules?'

Jenkins cleared his throat, and took off his glasses. He looked important and business like. Very clearly, he was currently in his element.

'Do you know,' Sirius said, conversationally, 'That you look like a raccoon with that ink on your face?'

'Sirius!' Hermione smacked his hand, furiously trying to hide a smile, and turned to Jenkins who was clucking with anger.

'Mr. Jenkins, I'm so sorry, could you please tell us what the rules- _please?'_

'You sound like Cristobel,' Sirius informed her.

'Shut up.'

'I'm sorry,' said Jenkins, coldly, 'To interrupt this marital argument. I would like to point out to you, however, that is absolutely impossible for you to annul you marriage at present.'

Hermione felt her heart sink down to her supposedly skinny ankles.

'Why not?' Sirius asked, angrily.

'Well,' said Jenkins, complacence smeared along with ink on his face, 'You might not know, but the Ministry does not approve of annulled marriages.'

'Nonetheless,' Sirius said, calmly, 'There is a provision for the same. It is perfectly within out rights to demand a divorce.'

'Yes, _but,_' Jenkins raised a long finger, 'That can only be granted after _one year _of living together.'

Sirius stared at him. Hermione gasped.

'What?'

'You heard me,' he said, clearly enjoying himself. 'We will allow a divorce only after you two live as husband and wife for a year.'

'But- but you don't understand!' Hermione said, desperately. 'We made a mistake, we were drunk, we don't even remember-.'

'Show me that clause.' Sirius said, suspiciously.

Jenkins smirked, and pulled out a leaflet, which he handed to Sirius.

'You will find it on page seventeen,' he said.

Sirius flipped through page seventeen, and raked through it. He slammed the leaflet down on the table with a ferocious expression.

'Damn,' he said.

He turned to Hermione. 'Do you realize we're going to have to live together for a _year? _Do you know what _terrible_ ramifications this is going to have?'

'I know,' Hermione said, in a small voice. 'My interview- your job- moving together-.'

'No, Sirius said, in a deep, grave voice. 'I was referring to Molly Weasley.'

**AN- Aha.**

**That's all I have to say. **

**It sums up my feelings at this point of the story.**


	6. Earthquake

**CHAPTER 6**

'What was that?' said Molly Weasley, in a deathly whisper. 'What was that you just said?'

Hermione held up her hands in front of her, trying to stem the reaction that she anticipated. Sirius, with great presence of mind, leapt behind the table and cowered over there. 

'Mrs. Weasley,' Hermione began urgently. 'It was a mistake, and anyway-'

'Are you trying to tell me,' said Mrs. Weasley, in a voice that Voldemort would have been proud to mimic, 'that he actually had the _nerve_- the absolutely _audacity_- to marry you?' 

Her eyes glittered silently. Sirius contemplated putting a Shield charm around himself. He was just about to, when-

'WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT'S ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED?'

'Mrs. Weasley, I-'

'YOU'RE EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD, AND SIRIUS IS AN OLD MAN!'

Sirius winced. _Ouch._

'But-'

'AND YOU, HERMIONE, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE THE RESPONSIBLE ONE! I NEVER EXPECTED-'

'It was a mis-'

'Don't tell me it was a mistake!' Mrs. Weasley said, wrathfully. 'Don't tell me that, because I don't for one second believe- SIRIUS BLACK!'

Sirius, who had been trying to crawl out of the kitchen undetected, froze. He turned around with a tentative smile.

'Yes, Molly?' he asked, politely.

'DID YOU MARRY THIS GIRL?'

'Ah,' said Sirius. 'If that's what you're asking-'

'That most definitely is what I'm asking! And I'll ask again! Did you- in all reality, even given your somewhat stunted mental growth-'

'What do you mean stunted-'

'-And despite the fact that you have always been an incredibly foolish man-'

'Hey!'

'- did you really _marry_ Hermione, Sirius!'

'Mrs. Weasley,' Hermione said, in a pacifying voice. 'Don't blame Sirius, this isn't fault!'

'Of course it's his fault!' Mrs. Weasley said, furiously. 'Everything is always his fault! As if he didn't get into enough trouble in school with his wide array of girls, as if he didn't already get reprimanded by _Dumbledore himself_ for that unnatural pursuit of Marianne Wilkins- WHY ARE YOU SMIRKING?'

'I'm not,' Sirius said, hurriedly, wiping the pleased look from his face. 'Honestly, I-'

'ARE YOU _PLEASED_ THAT YOU WENT AND MARRIED THIS POOR INNOCENT-'

'It wasn't like that!' Hermione said, desperately. 'Honestly, Mrs. Weasley, I-'

Mrs. Weasley cut her off with an impatient gesture. Her face was becoming redder and redder, and Sirius quickly decided that the best person to deal with this situation was Hermione- _alone._

'I'll be in the parlor then,' he said, quickly, making a dash for it, and shutting the kitchen door just as he heard Molly scream, 'YOU COME BACK SIRIUS BLACK, YOU FILTHY LITTLE-'

The minute Sirius got the door shut, he hastened to place a Silencing Charm on the room, thanking his lucky stars that he had escaped unscathed. Turning around, anticipating a quiet time with a much needed bottle of firewhisky he was not pleased to come face to face with Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Bill, Remus and Tonks.

Sirius stared at them.

'Hey,' said Harry, with a grin.

'What are you doing here?' Sirius demanded.

'We called them,' said Fred, who was looking absolutely delighted. 'We didn't want anyone to miss the fun, it's so nice when Mum shouts at someone else-'

'Did you really marry Hermione?' George asked, admiringly. 'How, man, how? I've been trying to do it for years.'

'Really, Sirius,' said Remus, who was looking amused despite his severe tone. 'Whatever possessed you to do such a thing?'

'It was a mistake,' Sirius said, miserably. 'I didn't mean to, honestly.'

George clucked indignantly, but Bill grinned. 

'Funny, I never noticed how easy it was to get married by mistake,' he said, 'and I've already done it once.'

Sirius threw him a Very Nasty Look.

'Are you in love?' Tonks asked, eagerly. 'Have you been dating?'

'Of course not,' Ron said, immediately. 'Hermione was going out with me, until-' he stopped, and looked suspiciously at Sirius. 'You weren't going around behind my back, have you?'

'I always thought you'd get together,' beamed Harry, very untruthfully.

'How long have you been dating?' asked George, enviously.

'We haven't!' Sirius snapped. 'We haven't been dating, we're just friends.'

Fred raised a finger. 'Wrong first time, Sirius, you're a _couple.'_

'A _married _couple,' said Harry, fondly.

Sirius growled. 'There's no need to remind me.'

'Hey,' said Harry, indignantly, 'That's no way to talk, she's my best friend!'

'So why did you marry her, if you're just friends?' asked Remus, who looked interested.

Sirius groaned. 'I don't know, I don't even remember it!'

Remus nodded, knowingly. 

'Cold feet,' he said, wisely. 'And absolutely panic. Happens to every bridegroom. If Arthur hadn't been there to grab me by the coat tails when I got married, I would have probably raced out of the hall faster than a jack rabbit.'

'You never told me that!' said Tonks, indignantly.

'It wasn't like that,' Sirius muttered, irritably. 'We were both drunk.'

The room was silent for a split second, and then everyone said, 'Ohhhhh…'

'A _ drunk_ union!' cried Fred, in delight.

'Oh, Sirius, you lucky man.' George groaned.

'I don't believe Hermione would do that,' Bill said, shaking his head in amusement. 'The girl must have been super drunk.'

'She was,' Ron cut in. 'I saw her, they were dancing-' he pointed at Sirius.

'So you got drunk and got married,' Harry said, grinning. He was obviously very happy with the turn of events. Raising his eyebrows suggestively, he asked, 'And when do you plan to _consummate,_ Sirius?'

Everybody laughed, and Sirius gulped.

'Unless,' said Lupin, slowly, watching Sirius, 'He already has?'

The laughter stopped abruptly. Every face turned to Sirius, who was looking at his feet and sweating profusely.

'MY GOD,' said Harry, his eyes lighting up. 'They did! They _slept_ together!'

'Oh, good man!' shrieked George, jumping with excitement.

'Sirius, you didn't!' protested Tonks.

'How did Hermione ever agree?' asked Bill. 

Sirius groaned. 'She- I- we didn't-'

'The only thing you _didn't_ do was exercise common sense,' said Remus, adding, 'I'm used to that, of course.'

'Watch it wolfie-'

George held up a finger. 'Stop jumping down Sirius's throat, everyone, we've all missed a really important question.'

'Which is what?' asked Harry. 'I thought we had the details pretty clearly.'

'Nope,' said George, grinning. 'Out with it, Sirius, my man! How was the girl in bed?'

Sirius choked on air, and Fred let out a shout of laughter, even as Remus tried hard not to smile, and Tonks protested, 'George, I don't think you should ask-'

'I have a right,' said George, indignantly. 'If I can't experience it first hand, can't I have a witness's account?'

'Account of what?' asked Hermione, and everyone wheeled around as she and Mrs. Weasley walked through the kitchen door. She looked suspiciously around.

'What are all of you doing here?' she demanded. 'I didn't know you were coming. Account of what, George?'

'Um,' said George, 'Nothing, it's a guy thing.'

Hermione lifted an eyebrow, and surveyed him coldly.

'Right,' said George, cowering, 'I think I'll go stand behind Sirius now.'

'Yeah, since she's not going to attack _him_,' Harry grinned.

'Au contraire,' said George, sagely, 'I'm sure she attacked him pretty well last night.'

Hermione flushed bright red, and Sirius almost died.

Molly Weasley looked puzzled, 'What? Did you attack him last night, Hermione? Is something wrong?'

'No,' said Hermione, in a small voice. 'No, no, no, nothing's wrong, no...'

'I meant in _bed_,' said George, with relish.

Mrs. Weasley laughed.

'Good heavens, George, why would Hermione attack Sirius in bed, it's not like they-'

She froze.

For one second, so did the rest of the room.

Mrs. Weasley turned to George, who tried to back away and stumbled into Tonks.

'What- did- you- say?' she hissed. 'What was that?'

'Um,' said George, in the same manner he used when confronted by Hermione. 'Um, ah-'

Mrs. Weasley said derisively, 'You couldn't possibly mean that, George, they wouldn't- _would they?'_

'Ah, I think I'd like to go to the garden, come on Dora,' said Remus hurriedly.

'Me too!' said Bill.

'I'm assuming of course,' said Mrs. Weasley, dangerously. 'That you have at least a sliver of brain, Sirius Black, so I wouldn't need to ask would I?'

'Er,' said Sirius.

'Yeah, I want to go to the garden too,' said Harry, quickly. 'Come on shall we-'

'Run for cover?' supplied Ron. 'I'm right behind you mate!'

They scuttled out of the room, and were hurrying towards the door when the world around them exploded and dust fell from the skies.

Hermione and Sirius were going to have a long, long evening


	7. Something Strange

CHAPTER 7

**CHAPTER 7**

Much as Molly Weasley wished it otherwise, there was only so much that a person could shout before drawing breath and losing voice. Her tirade, which had initially blossomed with fervor and potential soon began to peter out. She was, however, a woman of strength, and by the time she was done, the sun had grimly lessened, evening arrived, and the sky had folded into a delicate apricot-and-cream combination that on a normal day Hermione loved to watch. Mrs. Weasley delivered a last crushing remark, and then stood, breathing heavily and wiping her sweaty hands on her apron.

Sirius, who had been thumbing through a magazine, looked up in mild surprise.

'Oh,' he said, absently, 'Is it over already?'

Mrs. Weasley threw him a cold look, but the fire had burned out.

'Mrs. Weasley, we're really, _really_ sorry,' Hermione said, capitalizing on the momentary lapse in volume. 'We're so ashamed of what we've done, so terribly horrified, _aren't we Sirius?_'

'What?' said Sirius. 'Oh yes, yes, definitely, yes, oh yes, I think so.'

This time the look he got was withering.

'Well,' said Mrs. Weasley, 'I simply wash my hands off this affair.'

With a dismissive shake of her hand, she stalked off.

For a moment, Sirius and Hermione were silent. Just as Hermione opened her mouth to speak the door opened again, and both whirled around with fear.

'Oh, no, she's back-' Sirius began, but stopped when he saw a pale face with messy black hair peer around the door.

'Hullo,' said Harry, 'No bodies?'

'None whatsoever,' said Hermione, spreading out her hands. 'You can all come in now. I have no doubt you were pressed up against the keyhole trying to listen all this while.'

Harry looked sheepish, and entered the room. Everyone else trooped in behind him, and settled down on chairs. Ginny perched on the edge of the table.

'Well?' asked Remus.

'My ears aren't going to function for a while,' Sirius said, ruefully.

'You deserved it,' his best friend told him, severely. 'Bu we'll ignore that for now. What are you two planning?"

'Well, we need to live together for a year,' Hermione said. 'We get through that and we can get out divorce.'

'Where will you be staying?' Tonks asked.

'Grimmauld Place,' said Sirius.

'My flat,' said Hermione, at the same time.

Both looked at each other in surprise.

'First occurrence of marital discord,' Fred muttered to George. 'You might still get your chance at the lovely lady, brother.'

Hermione threw him a scathing look, and then turned to Sirius.

'I didn't really think about it,' he admitted.

'I can't leave my flat,' she said, 'My landlord will annul my lease, and the only thing I want annulled right now is this marriage.'

'We'll stay at your flat then,' Sirius agreed. 'I'm sorry, I didn't think of it that way,'

'You can take the guest room,' Hermione told him. 'You'll have to pack some stuff and bring it, anyway.'

'I'll go do that right now,' Sirius said, jumping up. 'I'll move in tonight.'

He left the room. Tonks wandered out with him, and the twins soon followed.

'Hey, Remus,' said Harry turning to him. 'Could you come here for a moment?'

'Something wrong?'

'No, I just need you to explain this to me- it's a repulsive jinx- very difficult…'

'Auror training still hurting, then,' asked Hermione, with a smile.

Harry threw her a bitter look. He had been complaining non-stop about the difficulty of his training.

'Don't worry, we'll have it figured out in a moment,' said Remus, looking amused. He sat down beside Harry.

Ginny, who had been sitting on the table, checked to see if Remus and Harry were occupied, and the slid off and moved towards Hermione.

'Well?' she asked.

Hermione looked wearily up at her. 'Please don't lecture me.'

'Wouldn't dream of it. I just wanted to ask you how you were feeling.'

Hermione laughed wryly. 'You're the first person to ask me all day,' she said. 'Everyone else has either been laughing or yelling the house done.'

'You know that Mum means well, right?'

'Always have, Ginny.'

'But seriously,' she said, touching Hermione's shoulder. 'How are you coping?'

Hermione shrugged. She looked a little dazed.

'This is the first time I've had a moment to think all day,' she confessed.

'Tell me about it,'

'Well, you know what it was like last night,' Hermione murmured, tiredly.

'I remember seeing you and Sirius dancing. You looked cute.'

'Thank you. Well, next thing I remember was this morning. It was- actually, it was not so bad. I just prayed it wasn't Ron.'

'Understandably,' said Ginny, her lips twitching.

'It wasn't terrible, or anything, when I found out it was Sirius. I mean, these things happen right? But he was horrified.'

'Ouch,'

'No, not like that, but he thought he'd _taken advantage_ of me.'

Ginny snorted. 'I'd like to see that happen someday. It's not even possible.'

'Try explaining that to him. Anyway, I think I had him pretty much convinced, when we noticed the rings.'

'Ooh,' said Ginny. 'Here it gets really interesting.'

'More like traumatic.' Hermione said, broodingly. 'First we went to the Marriage Registrar, and we ended up getting locked together in a broom cupboard.'

'What!' Ginny stared.

'I'm serious! It was some really complicated thing. But they even had anti-apparition barriers on it. On a fucking broom cupboard!'

'Why the hell?'

'I have no clue, Ginny. Anyway, after we had confirmed our marriage, we had lunch and then went to the Annulment- wait a moment.'

'What?' asked Ginny.

'I completely forgot. Something strange happened over lunch.' Hermione peeked around. Remus and Harry had left the room.

'What was that?'

'Well, you know I have an interview tomorrow, right?'

'Yes,'

'Well, I was just talking about that over lunch, and Sirius got this look on his face. He had it last night too, when I told him about it. It took me some time to figure it out, but I have a feeling he really didn't want me to give this interview.'

Ginny looked puzzled. 'Why not?'

Hermione frowned. 'I don't know. I asked him upfront, and he got hyper. Told me I was imagining things, drop the subject, etc…'

'Oh,'

'Anyway, I remembered something else then.'

Hermione told her about the conversation she had caught between Sirius and Remus. Ginny frowned.

'Kingsley? High up? That can only mean the Ministry, right? I mean where else is Kings high up?'

'I debated something social, but I'm pretty sure it had to do with this,' Hermione said. 'In fact, I'm certain. It seems like something's up at the Ministry, doesn't it?'

'Like placing Anti-Apparition charms on a broom cupboard?'

Hermione frowned. 'Do you think there's a connection?'

'No. But I'm definitely curious.'

'So am I,' Hermione said, mournfully. 'But I'm entirely sure that Sirius and Remus are not going to tell us?'

'So?' asked Ginny. Her eyes were glinting. 'I think we can find out on our own, don't you?'

Hermione stared at her.

'What are you saying, Ginny?' she asked, slowly.

HerHHh


	8. First Night

CHAPTER 8

**AN- I'm sorry a thousand times over for being so slow with this update. I actually spent the last week or so writing the next five chapters, because here an actual plot (Yes- believe it or not I'm attempting to write a story with a plot) begins. So anyway, read and enjoy, and please make me happier by reviewing.**

**By the way, I'm also looking for a beta. If anyone's interested, just leave a review with your e-mail id, and I'll get back to you write away.**

**Happy Reading!**

**CHAPTER 8**

Sirius moved in that night. It didn't make much of a difference in Hermione's flat, because he didn't bring much furniture along, preferring the quaintness of her grandmother's chairs to the obsequious glamour of the furnishing at Grimmauld Place. Besides, he was certain that attempting to dislodge any of the mahogany and oak pieces that decorated his home would set off some sort of curse or spell. Knowing his mother, it would be fatal.

Instead, he simply brought a suitcase with some clothes and other stuff he needed. He also brought a couple of bottles of alcohol and a few packs of cigarettes.

'What?' he asked, when Hermione threw him a scathing look. 'I can't live without these wines, and I promise I'll smoke outside.'

She hesitated for a moment, wondering what to say.

_Just tell him. He's your husband._

'You don't need to bring that, there's plenty at my place,' she said, gruffly.

He looked surprised. 'You _smoke_?'

'Don't tell Molly,' she muttered, and quickly escaped.

When they reached her apartment, he dumped his suitcase into the guest room. He decided to have a drink before unpacking, and went back into the drawing room to find Hermione poring over a letter.

'Who's that from?' he asked, 'Or shouldn't I be asking? Where's the liquor, Hermione?'

'That cabinet,' she murmured, pointing vaguely. 'It's from the Ministry.'

Sirius, who had been rummaging amongst the bottles in the cabinet, jumped and smashed his head into the above shelf. He swore loudly. Hermione looked a little amused.

'That shocked?' she asked, sardonically, 'Come here and let me kiss it better.'

He threw her a dirty look and moved closer. 'From the Ministry?'

'From Henry Jenkins, actually,'

'Oh, joy,' muttered Sirius.

'Read it,' Hermione said, thrusting it forward, 'This might change our plan a bit.'

Sirius took the letter and read it. When he looked up, there was a massive frown carved into his brow.

'What the hell does this mean?' he asked, angrily. 'What are these _inspections?_'

'By Mister Jenkins himself,' said Hermione, dryly. 'How I wish you weren't so rude to him, Sirius. I suppose he thinks we'll try and live separately for a year.'

'But we aren't,' Sirius pointed out.

'Maybe not, but this also means that you can't stay in the guest room. You'll have to come into mine.'

Sirius groaned. Something told him this was not going to be easy.

'Aren't we going to be forewarned?" he asked, plaintively.

'They're called _surprise_ inspections for a reason, you know,' Hermione said, thinly. 'Look, don't complain, just move your things, okay? It's just one stupid suitcase, anyhow.'

And so he moved in.

oOo

Hermione flicked on her lighter, and took a long drag.

She really needed this, she told herself. It had been a long and tiring day. Sirius had unpacked his clothes, and she had found space in her cupboard for them- not being much of a clothes-addict herself, she had space. She didn't know the first thing about cooking, so she had microwaved a packet of instant meat and dumped into onto the table. Most days she skipped dinner, but she was pretty sure Sirius would want his fair share.

He had wanted to take a shower before eating, and while she sat on the bed and sucked in peace from her cigarette, she could hear the rhythm of the water against the tiles, from inside the bathroom. Lazily, she curled a tendril of hair around her finger. She was so tired, she didn't think she'd ever be able to move.

Just as she lit her second cigarette, she heard a soft tapping on her window. She looked up, and say

w a brown owl hovering outside.

'Pig,' she muttered, and threw a glance at the bathroom to make sure Sirius was still inside. The shower had stopped, but she reasoned with herself that he would take a minute or so to change. Jumping out of bed, she slid open the window.

'Hey Pig,' she said, as the excitable owl zoomed. 'Stand still a moment, won't you?'

The owl complied, and she untied the letter. It was from Ginny.

_I think it's time to put our "plan" into action. We're having lunch at the Ministry tomorrow, after your interview. Cheers!_

'What's that?'

Hermione whirled around. Sirius was standing behind, resplendent in a pair of black boxers, and nothing else. He was toweling his hair, and looking at her.

'Who's it from?'

'No one,' she said, coldly. She chirruped, and Pig came down and landed on her wrist.

'It has to be from someone, you know,' Sirius said, reasonably.

'Go,' Hermione muttered to the owl. Pig immediately zoomed out of the window.

Sirius was watching her closely.

'That's Ron's owl,' he said.

'Too true,' Hermione muttered. 'Do you want dinner? There's chicken on the table.'

'Thank you, I'm famished,' Sirius said. He glanced at the lit cigarette in her hand. 'Will you be joining me or simply be drawing as much smoke into your system as possible.'

'I never eat dinner,' said Hermione, throwing herself back onto the bed.

Sirius nodded and began walking towards the door.

'You and Ron still pretty close then?' he asked, just as he was about to leave.

'What?' Hermione asked, absently. 'Yes, I suppose so.'

'How nice,' said Sirius, and went to eat dinner.

oOo

Hermione decided not to sleep that night.

It wasn't that she felt uncomfortable sharing her bed with him. It wasn't that at all. It was just that for some reason she felt oddly constricted. Her room felt stifling. Instead, she took a mug of coffee and her pack to the balcony, and sat down on a deck chair. The entire city was spread out around her, lights twinkling and a soft breeze blowing. She took a sip of coffee, and thought about her interview.

'Are you sure you're not coming to bed?' Sirius asked.

'Yes,' she replied.

'You do have an interview tomorrow, you know,'

'I'm fully aware of that, Sirius. I can get by with very little sleep.'

'Well, good for you, then,' he grumbled, and turned onto his stomach.

Hermione took another drag. Sirius was right, she did have an interview tomorrow. But somehow, she couldn't get herself to get into that bed. Idly she wondered if he was uncomfortable, sleeping there. Not that the bed was very feminine, or anything. It was large, but full of plain white sheets, and none-too-soft pillows. She had pinned various notes and photographs onto the headboard.

She leaned back against the balcony railing.

oOo

Sirius leaned back against her hard pillows, and tried to go to sleep.

For some reason, he felt vaguely disturbed. He turned over, and wondered why she didn't sleep. Maybe, just maybe, she felt uncomfortable around him. It didn't strike him as likely, though. She was a remarkably thick-skinned girl. He didn't think she got uncomfortable around anything.

He turned over again. The smell of smoke crawled into the room and touched his senses. He breathed it for a moment, and then made up his mind.

Getting up, clad only in his boxers, he made his way to the balcony. Hermione looked up in surprise.

'What are you doing here?' she asked.

'Give me a smoke,'

'Here you go,' Hermione handed it to him.

oOo

Hermione was the first to wake up. Since they were still in the balcony, the sun falling down on her face was enough to pull her out of sleep by six. She glanced around, and saw Sirius leaning against the railing, his head sloping to a side, and his mouth slightly open. She was reclining with her head in his lap.

She propped herself up, and looked around wearily. The floor was littered with cigarette ends, overflowing out of the ashtray and reeking of smoke. She felt vaguely nauseous. This was her second late night in a row, and she silently berated herself for taking this interview so lightly.

She got up and stretched, feeling the muscles in her neck and arms crack achingly. Sirius moaned and stirred in his sleep. She prodded his cheek with her finger a couple of times, and his eyes flew open.

'Wha- Oh,' he closed his mouth. 'Good morning, my lovely.'

'Good is debatable,' Hermione said, bitterly. 'I feel terrible.'

'I did warn you to sleep in the bed last night. Leaning against a balcony railing is all well and fine until you wake up.'

'I know,' she mumbled. 'I'm going to grab a shower. If you want breakfast, you'll find the necessities in the fridge.'

'Thanks,' he said, getting up. He left towards the kitchen. Hermione disposed of the cigarette butts with a sweep of her wand, and cleaned the ashtray with another. She pulled out a gray pantsuit from her closet, and stumbled into the shower.

The hot water felt wonderful, as it trickled down her back. It slid over her aching muscles, and all the knots of tension under her skin. She grabbed her loofah, and began spreading luxurious foam in circular movements all over her arms and stomach.

She could hear Sirius moving around outside, and wondered what he was doing. He was remarkably comfortable, in her apartment, she realized. Not at all awkward or uneasy. It struck her that that was one thing that annoyed her most in men- any sense of being uncomfortable, or treating her as with shining chivalry.

Her shampoo was fruity, and she drew in deep breaths of the intoxicating smell as she scrubbed her hair. In a few minutes she was done, and stepped out of the bath. She dried her hair, and then pulled on the pantsuit, adjusting the sleeves. She wore a crisp white shirt under the light gray jacket. The perfect interview outfit, she thought idly.

She spritzed on some perfume, and pulled her hair into a chignon. Deciding to leave the painful high-heels to the last moment, she walked into the kitchen in stockinged feet.

To be met by the spectacle of a full breakfast spread out on her table.

'Hey there,' Sirius said, with a grin. 'What do you think?'

Hermione stared. He had obviously been hard at work. He had hunted out a yellow and white checked table cloth, and had used her fancy milky-white cutlery. He had curried her some eggs, and made toast and she noticed a gravy boat filled with marmalade, and a bowl of fruit. There was a silver jug of milk and a flask of coffee as well.

'You did this?'

He shrugged. 'I figured from yesterday's chicken that you couldn't cook.'

She bristled. 'Thanks,'

'Hey, no problem. You eat eggs right?'

'Thanks, Sirius,' she threw him a grateful look.

'Like I said, no problem. Have some coffee. Feeling better?'

'The shower did wonders,' she said, drinking some of the coffee. It was perfect. 'What do you think of the outfit?'

'Very admirable,' he shoveled egg onto her plate, and then handed her some toast. He had spread cream-cheese on it.

'I didn't know you were such a cooker,' Hermione admitted.

'A secret talent,' he confided. 'And I felt like both of us needed a fancy pick me up. Alcohol was obviously out of the question.'

Hermione grinned and ate some egg.

'Delicious, she said.

Sirius rolled an eye. 'Obviously. I made it. What time are you leaving?'

'Ten thirty,' she said, 'I'm having lunch with Ginny after that. What are your plans for today?'

For a moment, she wondered whether she should ask him that. He was a little touchy about his unemployment, but as far as she could see, he had no plans on actually performing manual labor. She supposed that a magnificent fortune that he had inherited somewhat lessened the pressure of earning.

He didn't seem bothered at all by the question, though.

'I'll be at Grimmauld Place,' he said, 'I'm meeting Remus.'

'How come?'

'Never you mind,' he said, coldly. Hermione pricked her ears up.

'You better be leaving,' said Sirius. 'You might get late.'

'Of course,' said Hermione, sweetly. 'See you later,'


	9. The Interview

Thanks for the reviews

**Thanks for the reviews. I was a LITTLE bit quicker with this chapter. Anyway, I got a few reviews from people telling me that Hermione was OC for smoking. That might be, but I guess I have some leeway to figure out the characters I use. Besides, in a way Hermione reminds me a lot of what I used to be in Junior High, and being a confirmed smoker (it kills, don't do it) myself it fit. **

**Enjoy the chapter…**

**CHAPTER 9**

Although she had been too preoccupied by the train-wreck that her life had become to be truly nervous about the interview Hermione felt distinct butterflies in her stomach as she walked down the polished corridor to the Wizengamot Office- and not of the good kind. She sucked in slow breaths and willed herself to be calm. Her feet- clad in three inch heels- were already killing her, and she pessimistically viewed this as a distinctly bad omen.

Her interview as being held an office which was on the fifth floor. The corridor itself was enough to intimidate someone. It was tiled in goldfish marble, and the creamy walls were papered in pinstripe, and adorned with brilliant canvases of artwork. Every few feet, a white half-pillar grew seamlessly from the ground, adorned by a rosy china vase filled with milky-white peonies.

Swallowing nervously, Hermione advanced towards a dark oak door. A golden plaque above it bore the legend: "Office of Wizengamot." She knocked twice, and a curt voice said, 'Come in,'

Taking a deep breath, Hermione entered. The room inside turned out to be a reception of sort. It was furnished in cream. At the far end was a desk behind which a witch with blonde ringlets and wire-glasses was working. As Hermione entered, she was writing furiously on a piece of parchment, but as the door closed behind her she looked up and smiled.

'Yes?' she asked. 'How may I help you?'

'I- um- have an interview with Mr. Kaploffe,' Hermione said, nervously. 'I'm interviewing for a post in the Wizengamot.'

'Of course,' said the blonde, smoothly. 'You must be Hermione Granger. Please, take a seat. Mr. Kaploffe is busy at the moment but he will see you presently.'

Hermione sat down on a plum-upholstered chair, and crossed her legs. The blonde zoomed away for a moment, and returned with a china cup of tea.

'Thank you,' Hermione said, gratefully. She sipped the tea- that was extremely weak and sweet- and flipped through the file on her lap. She had been sitting for hardly two minutes, when the blonde gestured towards her.

'Mr. Kaploffe will see you now,' she said, pointing towards a second door. Hermione nodded.

'All right,' she said, in a tiny voice.

She opened the second door, and walked into Mr. Kaploffe's office. The first thing that hit her vision was a broad, teak desk. Behind it sat a pepper-haired man, with a lean, chiseled face and dark eyes. A trendy beard crawled its way across his jaw. He was dressed in brown robes.

'Yes?' he asked, looking up. 'You must be Hermione?'

'Yes, um, Mr. Kaploffe,' Hermione said. 'I'm so pleased to meet you,'

'Likewise, my dear, likewise,' he said. 'Now, why don't we get down to business, shall we? Is your résumé in that file?'

'Yes,' said Hermione, and handed it to him. Mr. Kaploffe went through it for a few moments.

'Well,' he said, looking up. 'This is certainly very impressive. First in your batch, were you, my dear?'

Hermione nodded and tried to look modest.

'Outstanding in everything…' mused Mr. Kaploffe. He turned a page. 'And a note from Minerva, what a wonderful woman she is…strong recommendations…this looks to be in perfect order.'

'Thank you,' said Hermione, blushing.

He looked up and frowned. 'Am I right in saying that you excel in theory?'

His voice was suddenly hard. Hermione sensed a trap.

'Yes,' she said, quietly.

His dark eyes narrowed. 'My problem, Hermione, is that I'm not sure you'd so well in practice.'

Hermione stared at him. '_What?'_

'You heard me,' he said, hardly. 'Shall I tell you, Ms. Granger, what you remind me of?'

Hermione felt slow anger build within her. 'Pray, do so,' she said, through gritted teeth.

'All right then,' said Mr. Kaploffe, unaffected, 'I think you were a brilliant little student in class, and I'm not too sure you'll do as well in real life,'

'With all due respect,' Hermione fired back. 'I was under the impression that the job I'm being interviewed for was of a more theoretical background. And I don't mean to sound vain, but unless you've been entirely cut off from civilization for the last two years, you should know that I have tolerable reflexes in the face of crisis.'

Mr. Kaploffe stared at her for a full moment, his dark eyes narrowed. Then, he threw his head back and burst out laughing.

'Well done!' he said, 'Everything they say about you is indeed true! Don't look so flummoxed, my dear. I always must have my little joke with candidates, you see. You have my sincere apologies. Why don't you sit down, and we'll talk a bit about the job.'

oOo

Sirius waited for half an hour after Hermione left the flat. He continuously told himself that what she did was her business, and he shouldn't interfere in her life. But he couldn't shut out the expression she'd had on her face, when she'd got that letter last night. It had been a vaguely guilty look, widened eyes, horrified mouth…

'What the hell!' he said, out loud. 'I'll just take a quick look'

He found the letter in the wastepaper basket. It was crumpled and thrown in. Fishing it out, he flattened it against his palm and read.

_I think it's time to put our "plan" into action. We're having lunch at the Ministry tomorrow, after your interview. Cheers!_

Sirius stared. The owl that had delivered it had been Ron's. Last night, he had almost wondered if there had been something going on between them. He remembered how annoyed Ron had been when he found out. But the handwriting didn't match. It was plump and girly- and unsigned. It looked over it for few moments, and decided that definitely a female had written it- that left either Molly or Ginny Weasley.

He thought he'd rather go with Ginny.

As he figured that, he remembered that Hermione had been planning to lunch with Ginny after her interview. He snapped his fingers.

'Bingo,' he muttered.

So Ginny had written that letter. Why? What the fuck was their _plan?_ He stared at it for a few moments, and wondered whether maybe it was some stupid girly thing that he shouldn't even be bothering about. But then, he remembered he guilt in Hermione's face. This was something big- something to do with _him._

But what secret could it be about him that Hermione would-

He froze.

Then, he cringed.

_Oh, no. She wouldn't._

oOo

'It isn't easy, this job,' said Mr. Kaploffe, 'I'm assuming you know that.'

'Of course.'

'Our Wizengamot is made up of twenty five members. Of that, one is the Chief Wizengamot. Our present Chief Wizengamot is Monsieur Crabette. Of the rest, twelve are Justice Workers, ten are Implementers, and two are Legislators.'

'I know all this,' Hermione told him.

'Just brushing through. And which post are you applying for?'

'Legislator,' Hermione said.

Mr. Kaploffe eyed her keenly. 'Interested in paperwork, are we?'

'I'm fond of rendering loopholes redundant,' Hermione replied.

'Can you give me an example?'

Hermione took a deep breath. 'I strongly disapprove of the existing legislation with regard to wills. I don't believe the Ministry has any right to examine the wills of others. If I were given a chance, I'd restrict it to crisis cases only, and slash the forty-five day time period to four days.'

Mr. Kaploffe raised an eyebrow. 'Define crisis cases,' he challenged. 'Such a phrase is open to interpretation,'

'Cases of all those convicted of felony and having died during imprisonment,' Hermione fired back. 'I think that would suffice, don't you?'

Mr. Kaploffe bowed. 'You truly want to do some good in the world, don't you, my dear.'

Hermione nodded.

He cleared his throat. 'Very well, then,' he said, 'I suppose this concludes are interview. You will be hearing from me shortly.'

Hermione nodded, and got up, heart pounding.

_I think- I just about think- I've got it._

oOo

She met Ginny at the same cafeteria where she and Sirius had eaten lunch twenty four hours ago. Ginny's red hair had been pulled back into a French braid. She waved excitedly when she saw Hermione.

'Hey Herms!' she said, enthusiastically. 'How was the interview?'

'Pretty good, I think. I can never be sure. Want to catch some lunch?'

'Here's a table. What will you be having?'

Hermione considered for a moment, and then ordered pasta. Ginny went for a pizza.

'Yum,' she said, 'Anyway, did you get my letter? I think it's high time we put our plan into action.'

'I meant to talk to you about that,' Hermione said, seriously. 'What the fuck is our plan?

Ginny's eyes widened. 'Oh, don't tell me you're clueless!' she gasped. Then, calming herself down, 'All right, I'll clarify. Chief Objective: To find out what this super-secret is about the Ministry.'

'Why?' asked Hermione.

Ginny glared at her.

'Where's your fighter spirit gone? You practically _work_ for the Ministry now, you have a right to know!'

'Okay, that sounds reasonable,' said Hermione. 'So what's the plan?'

Ginny raised a finger. 'Okay,' she said, 'Here's what we know. We know that Sirius and Remus have a secret- they don't want you to go for your interview, or something like that- and that the Ministry has anti-apparition jinxes on broom closets.'

'Is the last one really important?' Hermione asked.

'I'm just putting together what we know,' Ginny replied

'Okay,'

'Now, what can we extrapolate? That it has something to do with the Ministry, right?'

'Yes,' said Hermione, 'And probably that the entire Order- redundant Order- whatever you call it- knows about this as well?'

Ginny stared. 'How do you figure that?'

'It seems right. Besides, they mentioned talking to Kings, remember?'

'Oh, yes, I forgot. But then why the hell aren't they telling us?' Ginny demanded. 'We're part of the Order- or we used to be, at least!'

Hermione bit her lip. 'I don't know,' she said, 'I suppose that's one of the things we have to find out.'

Ginny help up a finger. 'Hold on!' she said, snapping a pad and pen out of her bag, 'I'm going to write all this down.'

Hermione stared at her. 'You are?'

'Sure. Number one… broom closet, number two…why they won't tell us, number three… what's number three?'

'I don't know,' Hermione said, seriously. 'I think this is hopeless. There's only one lead I can imagine.'

'The broom closet,' Ginny said.

'Exactly,' Hermione nodded. 'We could go check it out- see if there's something hidden there. Yesterday, Sirius and I only went through the certificate. There might be other things. The only issue is, if we get caught-'

'No problemo,' Ginny beamed. 'Look what I got,'

She reached into her bag, and pulled out the corner of something silvery. Hermione blinked.

'You stole Harry's Invisibility Cloak?'

'I didn't steal it,' said Ginny, looking offended. 'I just…borrowed it, for a little while. If you'll finish your pasta quick, we can go check it out.'

Hermione hesitated for a moment, and then rolled her eyes.

'Oh, what the hell!' she snapped, throwing down her fork. 'Let's go.'

Ginny beamed. Both girls stood up, and maneuvered their way through the crowded tables to the washroom. Hermione glanced around.

'Coast's clear,' she whispered. 'Quick!'

Ginny nodded, and pulled the Cloak out of her bag. With a dramatic flourish, she threw it around both of them.

'Okay,' she whispered. 'Let's go, then. Where's this offending broom cupboard?'


	10. The Secret Doorway

CHAPTER 10

**AN- Big, big thanks to everyone who reviewed. Oh, and a special note to Maya-Hek, who is one of my loyal reviewers. You mentioned that Mr. Kaploffe really reminded you of Brom, from Eragon- well, that's **_**exactly**_** what I had in mind when I wrote about him. Bravo!**

**CHAPTER 10**

Hermione and Ginny stepped out of the Lift into the Level Fifteen corridor. It was awkward, moving under the Cloak together, but both managed it well given the high-heels they were wearing. As the grilled doors behind them closed, and the lift zoomed upwards, Ginny turned to Hermione.

'Which way?' she asked.

'There,' Hermione replied, pointing. 'We go carefully, now. There's a girl on duty at all times- might be Carla, might be Jenny- might be someone we've never even heard of.'

'Got you,' Ginny whispered. They crept down the corridor to the open door, behind which Hermione could see the familiar looking Office. A new red-head girl was sitting behind the desk. Her shoes- which looked suspiciously like Jimmy Choos- were lying discarded on the floor beside her, and she was painting her nails. Ginny fidgeted until her mouth was hovering beside Hermione's ear, and whispered, 'Bimbo!'

Hermione grinned. Under the cloak, she tipped a finger to her lips, and pointed. 'That way.'

They slid across the room towards the inconspicuous doorway. Red-head didn't even notice then. She had finished with her nails, and was flipping through a copy of Witches Weekly, humming to herself. As they neared the closet, Hermione turned to Ginny.

'We need a distraction,' she mouthed.

Ginny nodded, a determined look on hr face. She rummaged in her bright red handbag, and came out with a tube of lipstick. As Hermione stared, she took careful aim and lobbed the lipstick right at the pair of Jimmy's on the floor. They fell over with a clatter, and Red-Head turned, a look of most abject horror on her face.

Without giving Hermione time to think, Ginny yanked out her wand, whispered a spell to open the closet and pushed her in. She followed, and carefully closed the door after her. She pulled the Cloak off the both of them and smiled triumphantly.

'Well?' she whispered.

'Great job,' Hermione whispered back. 'She's busy crying over her shoes, I think we have some time to look around. And by the way- that was an amazing unlocking spell at the spur of the moment.' Ginny grinned. 'Now- this shelf- is where the certificates are kept. Oh, by the way, do you know Hannah Abbot got married yesterday?'

'You don't say?' Ginny's fingers had already dipped into the certificate file. 'These are definitely authentic right?'

'I'm pretty sure,' Hermione replied.'

'So then we ignore it. We need to look for something strange- confidential documents, secret stuff, something like that,'

'Okay, let me check this shelf,' Hermione said. She pulled out a drawer, and then yanked out a random leaf of paper. 'Birth certificate,' she muttered.

'I just found Death,' Ginny murmured. 'There's just this one shelf left, maybe it-'

Hermione dug in and pulled out a bunch of papers. She sifted through them.

'Well?' Ginny asked, in an excited whisper.

Hermione looked dully at her.

'Apparating Licenses. We're out of luck.'

oOo

'Remus! Remus, where the hell are you?'

'Right here, Sirius, my friend,' Remus said, striding into the kitchen. He saw Sirius pacing up and down the tiled floor. He was dressed in rumpled clothes and looked distraught.

'What's the matter, you look like hell.'

'You are never going to believe what happened,' Sirius said, looking to be on the verge of hysteria.

'First night of marital bliss not perfect?'

Sirius poured death from his eyes as he stared at his best friend. Remus's happy grin dropped off his face.

'Oh,' he said, gulping. 'Something _bad_. What happened?'

'I think Hermione knows,' Sirius said, urgently.

Remus stared at him. 'Knows wha- oh,' he said, '_Oh,'_

'Oh is right,' Sirius snapped.

'But how- how did she?'

'It's partly my fault,' Sirius admitted. He quickly told him about their lunch time conversation. Remus watched him intently.

'Well, the girl's pretty quick, Sirius,' he said, 'She was bound to figure out some time.'

'It's not just that,' Sirius continued. 'She got this note from Ginny last night- something to do about a _plan_.'

Remus looked skeptical. 'You've been reading her mail?'

'That's not the point!'

'Sorry- wrong timing…' he held up his hands. 'Look, Sirius, to be frank, I think we should have told the kids a long time ago.'

Sirius gritted his teeth. 'Remus, they-do-not-need-to-know.'

'You're acting like Molly now,' Remus protested. 'I thought you were all for them knowing stuff!'

'That was before- you know…' Sirius said. 'I think they've had enough to deal with, they're young.'

'All of us have had enough to deal with,' Remus said, calmly. 'And I think you'll have to resign yourself to the fact that they'll find out sooner or later, what with half the Order working on this project.'

Sirius growled. 'There's another problem!' he snarled. 'Ten of us working on this project, and we haven't been able to find out anything. _Anything!'_

Remus placed a hand on his shoulder. 'Calm down for a moment,' he said, 'Something will turn up.'

Sirius growled, and flung himself down on a chair. 'Could I at least have some coffee?' he asked, irately.

Remus smiled, and pulled out a flask. He poured two mugs, and handed one to Sirius. He took a deep draught, and then said, 'Look, Sirius, I know you're not happy with this. It's tough- and it's tiring- so soon after the war. But there's nothing we can do but cope. And the kids are brilliant at that.'

'They've had enough of coping to do,' Sirius said, stubbornly.

'Sirius,' Remus said, patiently. 'When we first found out about this fiasco, we thought it was something small. We were obviously wrong. I mean, there's an army out there! I really think the kids should be let in on this one.'

He leaned forward, and touched Sirius's arm.

'I'm not forcing you to do anything,' he said, 'But I think when Hermione comes back, you should tell her.'

Sirius raised his eyes. 'Are you serious?'

'Yes.' Said Remus, resisting the temptation to crack a lame Sirius-serious joke. 'If you're okay with this, I'll tell Harry and Ron as well.'

Sirius stared at him long and hard.

'I'll have to think about it,' he said, finally.

oOo

'Apparating Licenses,' Ginny said, glumly, 'Authentic ones, at that. We've hit a dead end.'

'It doesn't make sense,' Hermione said, frustrated. She ran a hand through her hair. They were both sitting cross-legged on the floor, and Ginny was leaning against the Death Certificate shelf. 'Why would they put an Anti-Apparition jinx on a boring old cupboard.'

Ginny's eyes narrowed. 'It isn't normal, obviously,' she said, 'There's something up with this place.'

'We've been through all the shelves, Gin,' Hermione pointed out. She wiggled a bit to get more comfortable.

'There's obviously still something,' Ginny said, firmly. 'Come on, Hermione, common-sense! We just need to find it.'

Hermione sighed, and got up. 'Can you put a Silencing Charm on this?'

'Sure. _Silencio. _Now what?'

'I'm going to climb up the shelves and check out the ceiling,' Hermione said.

Ginny stared at her.

'What?' Hermione asked, aggravated. 'We need to check everything, don't we?'

Ginny smiled and nodded. 'You're right,' she said, 'Climb up and be careful. I'll scout around the floor.'

Hermione slipped out of her shoes, and put one foot against the first shelf. It creaked ominously, but she thought it would be able to take her weight. Gingerly, she put her other foot onto it, and advanced a little. More creaking- she was silently grateful that Ginny had silenced the room.

She moved slowly, climbing higher as Ginny crawled around the floor. 'Found anything down there?' she asked.

'Several dust bunnies,' Ginny replied. 'But nothing spectacular. No hidden drawer full of secret documents.'

'Keep looking,' Hermione called down. 'I'm just climbing the- the- oh, my god.'

'What?' Ginny asked, instinctively shooting out from under a shelf and staring up. 'What happened?'

'I think…this shelf is about to-'

Hermione broke off, as with a loud crack a bolt snapped, and the shelf began teetering ominously. It swung backwards and forwards dangerously, and then with a finally crack, its centre of gravity shifted, and Hermione plummeted to the floor with a crash and several hundred official files.

The shelf hit the floor with a metallic clang- files were strewn everywhere. Hermione's first worry was that someone would hear, but then she remembered the Silencing Charm. She gingerly tried moving a leg.

'Are you all right?' Ginny asked, in a whisper.

'Think so. The charm's still up, right? Nobody can hear us?'

'They would have come in by now if they could. Sit up- you better check to see if you've sprained anything.'

Hermione sat up. Her back was a little sore, but she felt all right, given that she had just tumbled down to the floor with an entire Ministry shelf. She stood, and tested both ankles.

'Seems fine,' she said, 'What a miracle. Ginny, what's up?'

Ginny had also stood up. She was staring at a spot behind Hermione's shoulder, her mouth wide open.

Hermione wheeled around. 'Ginny, what-' she broke off. 'Oh,'

Built into the wall, hidden once by the shelf that was now lying in pieces all over the floor, was a door.


	11. The Underground City

CHAPTER 11

**AN- Thank you to everyone who reviewed! This chapter isn't very long, but I promise the next one will come tomorrow or the day after, so feel better. **

**The plot thickens…**

**CHAPTER 11**

'Why the hell is there a door behind that shelf?' Ginny asked, in a whisper. Hermione didn't reply.

She was too busy staring at the door. It was made of metal and painting black. There was metal strips across its surface, hammered in with nails. To one side was a large keyhole.

'I think,' she murmured, 'We just found out what the secret of this broom cupboard is.'

Ginny walked forward, and slid her hands over the wall. It was faintly discolored, where the shelf used to hang up. Her finger moved across its dusty surface, and she stopped at the point where the edge of the discoloration ended.

'There are grids here,' she whispered.

Hermione immediately dropped down, and hunted for the edge of the fallen shelf. It was hidden under scores of files. She pushed the aside, and inspected the shelf. Clearly visible were little wheels, painting in flaking cream.

'Bingo,' she whispered.

'What is it?'

'Wheels. On the shelf. I think it used to slide to one side, so that the door would be visible.'

'Sliding shelves,' Ginny said, shaking her head. 'Ingenious. Of course, your method of wrenching the entire shelf of the wall was much better.'

'Very funny,' Hermione muttered. 'What is this door? Where does it go?'

'There's a very easy way to find out,' Ginny said, grimly. 'Shall we go? I have the Cloak right here.'

'Hang on a second,' Hermione said, dropping to her knees. 'Let me just peek through the keyhole first.'

She craned her neck, and glued her eye to the keyhole. Peering in, she could make out a darkish area, and what looked like a railing. She tilted her head a little, and noticed that the ground just seemed to drop away a few feet in front of them.

'Well?' Ginny whispered.

'I think there are stairs up ahead,' Hermione replied. 'But there's no around. Let's go.'

'Hold on,' Ginny muttered. 'What if someone tries to get in through this door while we're inside.'

Hermione bit her lip. 'Tough luck for them,' she replied. 'We can't have someone sneaking in after us. Let's just hurry up and pray that no one comes.'

Ginny nodded, and Hermione opened the door.

oOo

Lunch alone in the apartment didn't seem like much fun. Sirius cooked some instant noodles, and ate them listlessly on the sofa, flipping through a bunch of Hermione's books. He wondered idly when she'd be back from lunch with Ginny. It was already past one.

He still didn't know what to say to her when she got back. He knew that Remus was keen on letting the kids know. But at the same time, with the growing seriousness of the situation, his "have-enough-to-cope-with" theory was holding no water.

Remus obviously wanted him to tell Hermione. Sirius wondered vaguely why it was _him_ who had to tell her. After all, they had never been close. If Remus was telling Harry and Ron, how come _he_ was the one telling Hermione.

_You married her_, he reminded himself.

Yes, that definitely seemed like reason enough.

At the same time, it seemed odd. He had known Remus for years. And it had taken his best friend only one day to come to terms with what he still hasn't grasped: he and Hermione were a _couple_ now. They were a mistake, a problem and a crisis, but they were also a couple. It was strange, he thought, how comfortable they were around one another despite their somewhat awkward circumstances.

_Well, she is a pretty thick-skinned girl._

He glanced down at the ring on his finger. From far, someone might think it was made of gold, but from up close, it transpired to be too pale and shiny, and easily scratchable. He wondered why he even wore it. In all probability, they had bought it at a cheap junk-jewelry store, or at a gypsy's sex-parlor, or something.

_­Maybe not the sex-parlor, though._

It was a cheap, unremarkable ring.

But Sirius didn't take it off. Instead, he finished his noodles, and smoked a cigarette, keeping his eye on the clock. If he was going to talk to Hermione when she got back, he needed to plan his words.

oOo

Hermione and Ginny stood side by side, looking through the hidden door.

The ground beneath them was made of rough cement. It narrowed dramatically a few feet onwards, and formed a sort of staircase, narrow and spiraling downwards. It was washed in darkness. To one side of the wall beside them was a lit torch. If it weren't for that, everything would have been pitch black.

'Do you think we should go back and call for help?' Ginny squeaked.

Hermione turned, and looked at her.

'Oh, all right,' said Ginny, 'Let's just go into that death-trap and get it over with.'

'Put the Cloak on,' Hermione whispered. 'And we'll both light out wands. If we hear or see someone, we have to remember to put them out immediately!'

They drew the Cloak around the both of them, and discarded their shoes. It seemed too much to be asked to face the unknown in three-inch heels. Instead, both whispered _Lumos_ and lit the tips of their wands.

'Okay then,' Hermione muttered. 'Let's go.'

They moved slowly and cautiously. He stairs spiraled tightly, and wound down into darkness. Ginny leaned over the edge and peeked.

'Be careful,' Hermione whispered.

'I can see some light.'

'You can?'

'Yeah. I think we're close to the bottom,'

'That was short,' muttered Hermione, who was expected a longer trip. They walked down a few more steps, and the staircase ended abruptly below them. Silently, both Ginny and Hermione stood at the foot of the stairs, under the Cloak. Facing them was a room that was about as big as a hundred foot ball stadiums.

_AN- sorry this one was shorter than the rest. The next chapter will be longer. Oh, and for all those who felt I did a bad job trying to explain the whole staircase-big-room thing, if you've read Animorphs (yes, I did once, long ago) try and imagine the Yeerk Pool. This looks a lot like that. _


	12. Armed Conspiracy

CHAPTER 12

**I'm so sorry about this long break. Family commitments, you know. I've also had time to confirm my theory that every cute guy in the world has to be my cousin. No, really. I'm related to all the good-looking ones. Isn't that terrible?**

**CHAPTER 12**

Remus dropped in to apartment at about four, and found Sirius pacing up and down the hallway. He leaned against the doorframe and lifted an eyebrow.

'Why don't I detect peace of mind?' he asked.

Sirius growled. 'Don't you dare subject me to your sense of humor. It's past four, and she isn't back.'

Remus looked vaguely surprised. 'Wasn't her interview at eleven?'

'You're right, it was. She had lunch with Ginny after that.'

'It must be a girl talk thing,' Remus said, reasonably. 'There's no need to get worried.'

'I can't help it!' said Sirius, throwing himself onto the sofa and running his hands through his hair. 'I just keep thinking of that letter Ginny wrote her. I'm ready to bet anything that they're doing something stupid.'

'Hermione's a smart girl,' Remus said. 'Come on, Sirius, relax. We'll wait for another half an hour- if they aren't back by then, we'll head to the Ministry. But I'm ready to bet anything they'll be sitting at the cafeteria and talking about whether bolero jackets looked better with trousers or whatever it is that girls wear other than trousers.'

'What's a bolero jacket?' asked Sirius.

'Good question. I have no idea.'

-

'What _is_ this place?' Ginny whispered.

Hermione murmured, 'I have no idea. '

The room was large, and brightly lit. Glancing up to the caved ceiling- which she discovered was cement- she saw stadium lights, curving down and splashing everything into light. They were standing at the vantage point, because one had to walk across a platform and climb down a ladder to get to this- _place_. Because of that, they could see the complicated grid of small buildings, shacks, and streets, that criss-crossed inside the dome-shaped room.

'It's a city,' whispered Ginny. 'It's a bloody city under the Ministry!'

'I'm getting a really bad feeling about this,' Hermione replied. She checked to see that the Cloak was covering both of them, and then took a few steps forward.

'Where are you going?'

'Just to the railing. Come on. I want to see if there are people down here.'

They leaned over the railing and peered down. It soon because obvious that there _were_ people there. Ordinary witches and wizards, dressed in robes and carrying wands were walking up and down the streets. Their faces were drawn and tense, and they moved quickly, as though eager to reach wherever the hell they were going. Some of them, Hermione noticed, were dressed in tattered and muddy robes. One or two were garbed in what could only be called-

'Armor,' Ginny murmured. 'That guy is wearing armor.'

It consisted of a breast plate, chain-mail, and a helmet. The man's arms and legs were protected with guards. The metal shone eerily.

'It's been protected by spells,' Hermione whispered. 'What's going on here?'

Ginny touched her arm, and jerked her head under the cloak. Hermione followed the direction of her movement, and stared. In between the pool of little buildings was a large, circular field. They were standing perhaps five-hundred meters away from it, but even from here it was obvious that it was huge. A track surrounded it.

In the centre of the field, a large platoon of men- all dressed in armor were standing.

'What _is_ this?' Ginny asked. 'Where the hell are we?'

Hermione began to feel uneasy. 'I don't know,' she muttered. 'But I think we should leave. _Now_.'

'Leave?'

'Now, Ginny.'

She grabbed her friend's arm. She could not explain the sudden alarm she was feeling. But she was absolutely certain they had to get out of here.

-

'Five minutes,' Remus said, tersely. 'Give them five minutes.'

'That's what you said five minutes back!'

'Fine! So they're living on borrowed time! But it's better than us going and bursting into the Ministry- an ex-convict and a werewolf.'

'You can't possibly want to just sit here,' Sirius protested.

'I'm not sitting,' Remus pointed out. 'I'm striding up and down the room. Just as you are. It's a miracle we haven't bumped into each other as yet.'

'I thought we had this sense of humor discussion…'

'So sorry. I was just trying to lighten up the situation. It's a little tough, given as how its raining.' Remus strode to the window, and pulled aside the curtain. 'See? Raindrops! It's glum and-' he broke off abruptly.

'Just when I was beginning to enjoy it,' said Sirius, moodily.

'Sirius!'

'I'm all ears.'

'There's Hermione!'

Oh, that got him into action. A second, two bounds, and a knocked-over coffee table later, Sirius shoved Remus out of the way, and peered down. Sure enough, Hermione was walking into the building, dressed in her pantsuit and absolutely soaked. And beside her, was-

'Ginny as well?' asked Remus. 'This is going to be a pretty little party.' He turned to Sirius. 'They'll be up in a minute. Are you going to tell them?'

'I guess so.'

'Do you want me to be here?'

'Yes- given that Ginny is. If it were only Hermione, you wouldn't be here.'

Remus nodded, understanding. 'All right,' he said. 'Well, let's wish ourselves luck.'

Just as he said that, a key turned in the lock and the door opened.

'Hey,' said Hermione, walking in and dripping water all over the floor. She sounded a little preoccupied. Ginny followed her, and absently shut the door behind her.

'Where were you?' Sirius demanded. 'And what took you so long?'

'Lunch,' said Hermione and Ginny at the same time.

Remus raised an eyebrow. _Why does that sound like a rehearsed answer?_

'Lunch does not take so long,' Sirius pointed out.

'We were hungry,' replied Hermione, hanging up her coat. 'Oh, shoot. I'm all wet.'

'You notice that now?' Remus asked. He waved his wand, and instantly Hermione and Ginny were dry. Hermione shrugged off her jacket. 'How was your interview?'

'Fine,' said Hermione.

Remus sighed. He looked at Sirius.

_Now._

'Okay,' Sirius muttered. 'Okay- both of you, sit down. We need to talk.'

'Can we do this later?' Ginny asked. 'I'm tired.'

'If you want-'

'No,' Remus interrupted Sirius, firmly. 'They have a right to know and this is important.'

'What's happened?' asked Hermione, looking from Remus to Sirius. There was a palpable tension.

'Sit down,' Sirius sighed. 'This is going to take a long time.'

-

'Jenny,'

Jenny looked up. She nodded.

'Yes, sir,'

'Has anyone gone into the cupboard since yesterday?'

She looked puzzled. 'Of course not,' she said, 'I've been on guard.'

'The whole of yesterday?'

'Yes. No- wait…I took over another girl around eleven or twelve.'

'Is she one of us?'

'No. Her name's Carla. But- I don't think she would have let anyone in, she's terrified of the boss.'

'I want better surveillance.'

'Yes, sir. May I ask, why-'

'You may not. What about the other portals?'

'They're secure, sir.'

-

'You asked me a question over lunch, yesterday,' Sirius began.

Hermione and Ginny stiffened and exchanged glances.

'Am I about to get the answer?' she asked.

'Yes,' said Remus. 'Actually, I think it's better if Sirius did the explaining.'

'Okay,' said Sirius, uncomfortably. 'Well- we've been- suspecting that stuff has been happening in the Ministry, of late. After Voldemort's death.'

'What sort of stuff?' asked Hermione.

'Stuff like what happened during your fifth year,' Sirius said.

'You know…lying, hiding from the public, etc,' Remus clarified.

'What are the Ministry lying about?' asked Ginny, anxiously.

'Well,' said Sirius, 'We didn't really know about this initially. But after the war, while everyone was settling down, we started to hear rumors. It seemed that they originated from someone in the Ministry.'

'Who we shall for further reference call Mr. X,' Remus put in.

Sirius glared at him.'

'Sorry,'

'Anyway, these rumors were so far-fetched, that we didn't believe them. But after a while-'

'What were the rumors?' Hermione asked.

Sirius looked at her. 'That there was a breakout,' he said, quietly, 'A break out from Azkaban.'

Ginny's mouth fell open. 'What?'

'The rumors were that many of the Death Eaters who were caught during the battle escaped,' said Remus. 'That they managed to escape Azkaban.'

'That's ridiculous,' Hermione protested. 'The Dementors don't even guard Azkaban anymore, its Ministry officials.'

There was a moment of silence.

Then, Sirius said, 'Apparently, the Ministry endorsed this break-out.'

Hermione and Ginny stared at him, looks of complete shock on both faces.

'Are you saying,' asked Hermione, her voice trembling, 'That some people actually believe that the Ministry would help Death Eaters break out of Azkaban?'

Remus held up a hand. 'What you have to understand is that the term _some people_ is too indeterminate for this conversation. Sirius first heard the rumor, when we went to collect his Grant of Pardon. One of the officials over there mentioned that he had heard there was a break out at Azkaban.'

'Obviously I didn't believe him,' Sirius said, 'I thought it was some cheap conspiracy theory. But then, one day later, he was murdered.'

'WHAT?'

'He was killed, and his body was found in the Thames,' Sirius said, shortly. 'His name was Jack White. Anyway, after that, I really began to sit up and take notice. It seemed really odd. But it was Remus, here, who got the next link to this puzzle.'

Remus nodded. 'I was called for Jury Duty,' he explained, 'It was a month or so back, I think. Anyway, I was sitting next to the personal secretary of the case. Her name was Amanda Houston. After the case, we were collecting notes, when a letter dropped out of her purse. She picked it up immediately, and looked so flustered that I knew something was up.'

'What did you do?' asked Ginny, breathlessly.

Remus shrugged. 'I just confronted her. I had no clue it was something important, I just asked her if anything was wrong. And she told me that she was in trouble, and that if I found out she would lose her life.'

Hermione exhaled. 'She said that to a perfect stranger?'

'She was terrified,' said Remus, 'I told her to come to the Order, tell us what it was all about. All she told me was that she had found out that the Ministry was involved in something terrible. When I asked her what exactly, she said that it had endorsed a break-out.'

Ginny whistled. 'My god,' she muttered.

'Well, I tried to ask her more, but she wouldn't tell me,' Remus said, regretfully. 'The next day, I read in the paper that a woman named Amanda Houston had splinched herself while Apparating, and died.'

Hermione was staring at them. Ginny shivered. 'Can they- can they do that?' she whispered.

'We don't know,' Sirius replied. 'After that, everything came in bits and pieces. A word heard here, a phrase dropped there. But I can tell you this much- three other Ministry officials who talked about the break-out also wound up dead by accident or unknown circumstances.'

'My god,' Hermione said, 'My _god_. I can't believe this- after everything's over, and- well- what else have you found out?'

Sirius eyed her with concern. 'Are you okay?'

'For god's sake, will you tell me what else you found out?'

Sirius bit his lip, and he and Remus exchanged glances.

'Okay,' said Remus, 'You guys have a right to know this. Just a few weeks back, I and Sirius managed to track down a man named Roran White. He was Jack White's brother,' Remus explained. 'We felt that it made sense to investigate a little further. Well, Roran White worked at the Ministry as well. He worked in the Apparition department. He told us stuff which- which, well, we were forced to believe.'

'What stuff?' asked Ginny, through gritted teeth.

'Firstly, that the Ministry did plan the break-out from Azkaban. The officers on patrol helped a large chunk of prisoners- mostly arrested during the Last Battle. We don't know where they are, or what they're doing, right now. In fact, we don't even have a list of the Death Eater's who _did_ escape, because the Ministry's been hushing up the whole thing. Secondly, Amanda Houston's accident was due to a careless mistake on the behalf of a certain apparition officer, whom nobody heard off since. He closed the apparition portal while she was mid way.'

Ginny flinched and Hermione's eyes had narrowed, as she looked at him. Sirius felt a stirring in the roots of his hair, and an odd sensitivity in his skin as he glanced at her.

'What else?' she asked.

Remus took a deep breath.

'He talked about an army,' he spat out, as if trying to get it all out as quickly as possible. 'He talked about the Ministry raising an army, although he didn't tell us why, and he didn't tell us about who was directly involved. It's complicated, because the Ministry's complex- it's made up of so many people, who perform so many functions. Obviously, everyone's not involved in this. But some people definitely are. There are too many questions for us to answer, really. We don't know why the Ministry's doing this- we don't know how- we don't know who's involved- and the biggest issue, we have no clue where the Death Eater's are, or where this army is.'

For a moment, there was silence. Ginny and Hermione sat, digesting every word they said. Sirius looked at Hermione with some concern. She looked a little pale.

'Are you all right?' he asked.

'Fine,' said Hermione, slowly, breathlessly. 'I'm fine. I just- we…' she looked at Ginny. 'I think we know where this army is.'


	13. Repurcussions

**I'm so, so sorry about the long gap. I was just so busy with college admissions and stuff that thus story just took a backseat. But now that that's done and over with, you have my full and undivided attention.**

**Please, oh please review.**

**CHAPTER 13**

They found Carla easily. They reached her house as it was starting to get dark. A thick cloud cover, remnants of the previous rain, slid over the moon, and shuttered them into darkness.

Jenny knocked on the flat door

A scrawny man, with a bushy mustache opened the door. He peered myopically at them.

'Can I help you?'

'We're here to talk to Carla,' Jenny said, shortly.

The man's eyes wandered from her determined face to the person who stood behind her. His eyes widened with recognition.

'Oh,' he said, breathlessly, 'Just- um- just give me, a mo', okay?'

He dived back into the flat, calling out for Carla.

'I'm coming!' They heard her call. 'Hold on.'

She hurried to the front door, wrapped in a blue bathrobe. Like her boyfriend, her eyes widened when she saw them.

'Jenny!' she said, and then she glanced at Jenny's companion. 'Oh!' she said. 'May I- can I help you?'

'We need to talk to you,' Jenny said, smoothly.

'Any- anything you want,' she murmured.

Jenny inclined her head. 'When you were on duty at the Registrar, yesterday, did you let anyone into the closet?'

Her eyes widened a little. Jenny could clearly see what as in their vapid depths.

_Fear._

'No,' she said, 'No, no, of course not!'

Jenny raised an eyebrow. 'No one?'

'Of course not!'

Jenny's companion nudged her. 'Inside,'

Jenny said, 'May we come in?'

Carla looked hesitant. 'I- I don't…'

'This will only take a moment,' Jenny promised.

She gave way, and stood back, letting them enter. She led them to a cheaply furnished living room, with coir mats and rickety chairs. The boyfriend brought them some diluted whiskey.

Neither of them touched it.

'I know you're lying,' Jenny said, 'Better tell me the truth.'

The boyfriend frowned. Carla began to stammer.

'I didn't- I honestly- would never…'

Jenny's companion stirred. A wand appeared from nowhere.

'_Crucio!'_

Immediately, Carla fell to the ground, writhing and screaming in pain. The boyfriend dropped his glass, and rushed forward, touching her arms.

'Stop that!' he yelled. 'What are you doing to her?'

Slowly- almost lazily, the curse was removed. Carla gasped for breath, her entire body heaving. The boyfriend looked around for his wand.

'Don't bother,' said Jenny. She pointed her own wand at him. There was a flash of green light, and he slumped to the floor.

Carla was nearly immobile, but she raised her head a bit. Her eyes were filled with horror.

'What did- what did you do…'

'I'll ask again,' said Jenny. 'Did you let anyone into that closet?'

'Yes!' she gasped. 'Yes- I'm so sorry- it was a mistake…'

'Who was it?'

'They wanted- they wanted to check their marriage certificates, that's all…'

'Who was it?' it was the companion who spoke this time.

Carla whimpered.

'Sirius Black,' she whispered.

Jenny raised her wand. Another flash of green light, and Carla stopped moving. She turned to face her companion.

Both knew that it had started…

-

'I can't believe you!' Sirius yelled. 'How could you take such a risk!'

Hermione had not expected this. She stared at him, her mouth hanging open. Seeing that she was unable to articulate, Ginny stepped in.

'We wanted to find out what it was!' she said, defensively.

'I can't believe you!' he growled. 'This was that- that stupid _plan_ of yours?"

Hermione jerked. 'What?'

He flushed. 'Nothing,' he muttered, and uncharacteristically, his eyes dropped down. Hermione stared at him for a few minutes, and then it clicked.

'You read my letter!'

'What letter?' asked Ginny. Remus stood silently beside them.

'The letter you wrote me, last night!' Hermione said, furiously. 'I can't believe you read it!'

'I wanted to find out what it was,' Sirius said, grimly imitating Ginny's words.

'You had no right!'

'Neither did you!'

'What bullshit,' Hermione said, fiercely. 'That letter was my personal property. You said it yourself, we had a right to know about this whole- thing!'

'Nonetheless,' Sirius said, through gritted teeth. 'I cannot believe you would take such a risk!'

'We wouldn't have had to if you'd just told us in the beginning!'

'This is not something I wanted you to cope with!'

'Stop turning into my mother,' Ginny snapped.

Sirius shut up. He stared furiously at her. Remus sighed softly, and stepped back.

'What,' asked Sirius, dangerously, 'Is that supposed to mean?'

Ginny jutted out her chin. 'What do you think? _This is not something I wanted you to cope with_…that's ridiculous. Stop acting like we're kids.'

'You aren't adults'

'Oh, really,' said Ginny, sweetly, 'so then, how come you married Hermione.?'

Remus flinched.

'I have to go,' he said, quickly, 'Dora will be waiting for me. Um- talk everything out- and- and just floo me if you need anything!'

He apparated like lightening.

Sirius hadn't moved. He was staring at Ginny, his eyes flashing. Then, slowly, he relaxed a little.

'Fair enough,' he said, with forced calm. 'I'm sorry.'

'What?' said Hermione.

'What?' agreed Ginny.

Sirius said, again, 'I'm sorry. I overreacted, because this issue is- well- big…and I'm not able to adjust to the fact that you're old enough to take your own risks. I shouldn't have yelled.'

Hermione and Ginny stared at him. They had anticipated a much longer fight. Sirius offered them a lop-sided grin.

'Is my apology accepted?'

'I guess so…' Hermione said, cautiously. 'I- um- I'm sorry I didn't let you onto this little plan.'

'I should have told you guys earlier,' said Sirius, running a hand through his hair. This was obviously a habit of his. 'Remus kept telling me to.'

'Yes, you should have,' Ginny said, severely. Her voice softened a little. 'What about the rest of the Order?'

'Not everyone knows about it,' Sirius confessed. 'Just the core of us, I guess. It was very vague until- well, until you two got into it. Incidentally, I cannot believe that this was the same cupboard we hid in today.'

'It was,' Hermione assured him. 'We just sort of figured that if it was protected with spells, there had to be something out of normal with it.'

'But how the fuck did you manage to find the doorway?'

Ginny smirked. 'Ask Hermione,' she said, 'She tried climbing up a shelf to look at the ceiling, and the whole thing gave way. And then when it fell to the floor- on top of me, by the way- we saw the door behind it.'

'Impressive,' said Sirius, softly, 'Do you really weigh that much?'

Ginny burst out laughing. Hermione glared.

'Anyway,' she said, loudly, over Ginny's giggles, 'We found that it sort of slid- the shelf I mean- to one side. So if anyone wanted to go into that- place- all they had to do is slide the shelf and open the door.'

'An underground city, under the Ministry…' Sirius murmured. He was silent for a while.

Ginny said, 'So what are we going to do?'

Sirius looked up at her. 'I think it's time to call another Order meeting,' he said, quietly.


	14. The Order Meeting

**AN- I knew Emmeline Vance and Mad-Eye are supposed to be dead. But technically, Sirius, Remus and Tonks and Fred are supposed to be too.**

**Can you see where this is going?**

R-E-B-E-C- Thank you so much for review. In all honesty, that's a point I'd completely forgotten. I'm so sorry for the mistake. I'll try and work around it.

**CHAPTER 14**

Very few people had known about the affair at the Ministry. Remus and Sirius had, obviously, because they had found out about it. Kingsley had been let in the affair soon after. His high position, as Deputy Minister of Magic had helped Sirius find out about Roran White. Tonks and the Weasley's had also known. But that was about it.

It was decided that very few people would be let into this mission. It was relatively new, and relatively unusual for them to not know who to trust and who not to. Finally, the new meeting that they called included Emmeline Vance, Elphias Doge, Sturgis Podmore, Alastor Moody- and Mundungus Fletcher.

Remus had told Harry and Ron the previous night, after his timely departure from Hermione's flat.

All of them were clustered around the large dining table at Grimmauld Place, listening to what Sirius had to say. He explained about the rumors, about Jack White and Amanda Houston. Kingsley told them how he had located Roran White, who worked for the Apparition Department, and who told them about the army. Hermione and Ginny narrated the story of the closet and the underground city.

The first reaction was one of shock and horror. The war was just over- Voldemort was gone- there was a new Minister of Magic… The denials came pouring in thick and fast. Sirius held his position though, and with some bolstering from Remus's side, the initial defiance abated somewhat. Kingsley explained to them that it was a difficult position and that they had highlighted all those Order members who they could trust. Several people preened smugly and asked what was to be done next.

Hermione couldn't help but admire how Sirius handled the meeting. He seemed to have a natural gift for pleasing people and inviting their admiration. She was so far down this train of thought, that when Harry shook her arm, she jerked and stared at him.

'What?' she asked.

'We were asking you what you thought of this situation,' said Harry, patiently. 'But, apparently, you were too busy staring at Sirius to answer.'

Hermione flushed, and a wave of laughter rippled across the room. Apparently, everyone knew about their little crisis.

'Okay,' she said, nervously, as Sirius smirked. She threw him a dirty look. 'I think that the focus of our attack should be the- city- which is under the Ministry. That's obviously where all the controversy is focused.'

'Are we going for direct attack, then?' asked Emmeline.

Kingsley said, thoughtfully, 'I rather think that's the best way to go. We hit them swift and fast, where they're most vulnerable. If we don't give them time to cultivate an army, we might avoid a war.'

Hermione shook her head. 'You don't know what it was like down there,' she said, 'Soldiers, all fitted out, and organized. I think all the cultivating has already been done. But you're right- if we hit them fast enough, we can definitely lessen causalities.'

'Do you think we're ready for that?' asked Sturgis, doubtfully.

Sirius shook his head. 'We need to find out a lot more,' he said, 'We can act only then.'

'So what are our leads?'

'I think we should investigate the deaths of all the Ministry officials,' said Hermione, suddenly. 'If we can find out who all were involved in them, it will give us an idea of which people are part of this conspiracy.'

'That's a good idea,' Remus approved.

'We should also talk more to Roran White,' put in Kingsley, in his deep voice. 'He knows an awful lot. I want to find out how.'

Sirius frowned. 'Suspect him of something?'

'I'm just being careful.'

'And we should keep our eyes open,' said Emmeline. 'For more deaths; we're seeing a definite pattern here.'

'And surveillance, of course,' sighed Remus. 'We need surveillance on that underground city of theirs.'

Sirius stared.

'And how the fuck are we going to do that?'

-

It was dark by the time the meeting was over. Hermione's head was buzzing with unanswered questions and dilemmas. She finished the last of her coffee and pressed her finger to the bridge of her nose, where a headache was beginning to crop up, as the other members got up and began leaving. Remus lit a fire and activated the Floo, since many of them couldn't apparate inside Grimmauld Place.

'Shall we go?' asked Sirius, coming and standing beside her.

Hermione stared bleakly at him. She reflected that it was going to be a while before she learned to accept herself as part of a couple like this. Sirius saw her wan face and pressed a hand against her forehead anxiously.

'Are you feeling all right?' he asked. 'You're a little warm.'

'Just tired,' she responded. 'I don't want to Floo back, Sirius.'

He blinked. 'You want to walk?'

She nodded, somewhat consciously. 'It's raining,' she said, 'It'll clear my head a bit.'

He quirked an eyebrow. 'You like getting wet in the rain, don't you?'

She laughed. 'What can I say? It's my guilty temptation. My heads a bit stuffy now, I think I'll feel better if I walk. I'll meet you there, okay?'

'You'll do nothing of the sort,' he told her. 'I've just been visited by an uncontrollable urge to walk home in the rain.'

She smiled. 'You're coming with me?'

'It's high time you learned that accompanying females into their state of wetness is my specialty,' he smirked.

Hermione choked over her coffee cup. A peal of laughter was dragged from her.

'Good lord, Sirius Black has a dirty mind,' she said, dramatically. Her head was beginning to feel a little better. 'Now, who would have thunk it?'

He puffed out pretentiously. 'I could count the woman, but it would take all night,' he warned.

She smiled. 'No need, I have first hand experience. Of course, I don't remember it, but we can't have everything, can we?'

It was his turn to laugh as he took her hand in his own.

'After this drama is over we'll figure out how to defeat drunken forgetfulness,' he promised her. 'Come on, let's go.'

They bid the other's farewell, and walked out hand in hand.

Remus smiled, thoughtfully. Across him, Tonks said, 'They get along well, don't they?'

'Very,' said his friend, smugly. 'And it's only been two days. What's the betting that by the time divorce comes around, they'll be madly in love?'

Tonks sighed.

-

As she walked home with Sirius, her hand tucked in his, Hermione felt the last vestiges of her headache disappear. By the time the reached her flat, she was marveling at his seeming medicinal properties.

'What can I say, I'm a miracle,' said Sirius, modestly.

'Shut up and get this coat off me, Moses,' she told him severely. He helped her out of her drenched coat and hung it up. 'Shall I make dinner?'

'Let me,' he begged. 'I know your cooking- or lack thereof.'

'Aren't you tired?' she asked, anxiously.

'Somewhat, but I can manage noodles,' he promised. 'Go change into something more comfortable. We'll take dinner to the bedroom and I'll bring some wine, too.'

Cheered by the thought, she headed to the shower, and felt the warm water soothe her senses. When she stepped out into the bedroom, a bowl of vegetable noodles, chopsticks and a bottle of wine stood on her bed.

'No plates?' she asked Sirius, who was sitting behind the ensemble.

'And no glasses,' he said. 'We're eating straight out of the bowl tonight.'

'Is this some sort of Black custom?'

'It's a Sirius one,' he beamed. 'Now come sit beside me, Granger.'

She grinned, and plodded her way to the bed. 'Gee, Sirius, one would even think you wanted me close by.'

'You're not straying even a foot,' he told her, firmly. 'Now stop talking and eat your noodles. If you want wine, you take it straight from the bottle.'

She ate for a while in silence. Sirius held the bowl in his lap, so she lay on her tummy and leaned over whenever she wanted a bite. After a bit, Sirius said,

'Harry's birthday feels like an age back, doesn't it?'

She sat up. 'It was day before, Sirius.'

'Yes,' he said, hesitatingly. 'But it feels like more, because- well, so much has happened since then.'

'Hmm,' said Hermione, sardonically. 'Since then I've slept with you, married you, forgotten both, got locked in a broom cupboard, got a job and uncovered a secret plot for world dominance. Yes,' she agreed, nodding wisely. 'A lot has happened since then.'

Sirius grinned. Then, his smile slipped and a thoughtful expression spread across his face. He contemplated Hermione for a few moments, and then taking his wand, he vanished the bowl of noodles.

Hermione stared calmly at him. 'What was that for?'

'I don't feel like eating.'

'Oh, and why is that?' she asked, bitingly.

'I'm beginning to see,' he said, frowning a little.

Hermione stared. 'See? See what?'

'Whatever it is I saw the night of Harry's birthday.'

**I know that some of you might be thinking this is going really slowly. I'm sorry if that's the case, but my reasoning was that they were a little more focussed on the issue at the Ministry, so romance kind of took a backseat.**

**How does that sound?**


	15. The Witness

**AN- Okay, so this was a pretty quick update, mostly because I was feeling awful of the long gap I took before the last chapter, but also since the plot is beginning to progress really fast now, and I'm writing much more.**

**I hope you enjoy this one!**

**CHAPTER 15**

The unveiling of the Underground city began a period of rigorous training for the Order. Unlike the threat of Voldemort, this one was dormant and as yet quiet, and they felt it was best to take advantage of it. Information was sought like oxygen, ears were kept pricked, and casually dropped comments raged the Ministry like fire. The operation was kept private and close, and not many people knew about.

Another large difference was the relatively less involvement of Harry and Ron. This came about due to a startling announcement a few days after. A band of Death Eater's had been spotted in Romania. They had fled before the authorities could catch them, but not before killing a single mother and her two children. A hurried consultation had taken place between the members of the Order, and Harry and Ron, along with a sizeable team that included Emmeline Vance, Elphias Dodge, and Sturgis Podmore had been dispatched to the location. It was deemed that taking care of the Death Eaters was a more immediate priority. In the meantime, Sirius, Remus, Hermione and Ginny involved themselves even more in getting information.

Hermione and Sirius' relationship did not alter much on the surface, but seemed to change underneath. There was a new understanding between them, and a new sense of partnership. It had taken stray comments made by Remus to realize it, but they did work together well as a team, and both reveled in this new discovery. Both of them, along with Ginny and Remus seemed to form a sort of close tie that was subtle and yet strong. Still, despite their best efforts, the first tangible piece of news came about two weeks later, and entirely by mistake.

Hermione had woken first that morning. She did most of the time, and had grown used to the feeling of sleeping beside Sirius. She had come to know his warmth, and his arm curved around her head, fingers buried in her hair, his wedding ring feeling cool against her skin. She had become familiar with his gentle snores, and the feeling of his morning stubble against her brow. When she woke up on the morning of the 15th of August, she took a few moments to collect herself and savor the familiarity. The sun was slanting pinkly through her window, and she knew it was early, perhaps no later than half past six. After a few minutes, the comfort of her position began to die away and she felt a little stifled.

Time to get up, then.

As always, Sirius protested as she moved. He grumbled in his sleep, and the arm around her head tightened slightly.

'Let go,' she muttered. 'I want to get up.'

He muttered insensibly. Hermione pushed him slightly, and then swung her legs off the bed and got up. She stretched, loving the feeling of energy that was coiling in her stomach, and heading towards the bathroom she brushed her teeth. She didn't bother showering- she needed her coffee first- and headed towards the kitchen. As she placed the saucepan on the stove, and began to bring down the jar of powder, she heard the door open and Sirius came out.

He was dressed in his gray pajamas, the ones she had teased him about mercilessly the second night he had slept with her.

'It's six thirty in the morning,' he accused, sleepily.

She shrugged. 'I didn't ask you to get up.'

'I can't help it once you do,' he grumbled. 'It's not comfortable anymore. Couldn't you sleep for half an hour more?'

'I was feeling stuffy.'

She dragged the saucepan off the stove and poured the water into her mug. 'Want some coffee?'

'Definitely,' he muttered.

She put the saucepan on again. Trust him to come out just as she had finished making hers. She shook her head in amusement.

The water began to boil just as they heard a soft tapping on the window. Hermione turned to see the brown owl that delivered her newspaper.

'It's the Prophet,' she told Sirius, 'Go pay the owl, will you?'

Sirius shuffled sleepily across the room, and dug a few knuts from her handbag. He opened the window, and handed the coppers to the owl, simultaneously taking the newspaper. As Hermione poured his coffee into a mug and handed it to him, he opened it the tight scroll and pressed it flat against the table.

'Here you go,' Hermione said, handing him his mug.

He sipped absently, eyes still on the paper.

Hermione was just about to ask him if he was going to make breakfast, when he said, in an oddly tight voice, 'I think I've found something.'

She frowned at his vagueness. 'What?'

'Ministry death,' he said.

Hermione immediately sat up straight. 'Who?' she asked.

Sirius pored over the paper, his face tense. 'A Ministry witch name Carla Mulroney.' He replied. He was silent for a few moments, and then said again. '_Carla_ Mulroney.'

Hermione blinked. 'Carla? The one is the Marriage Registrar? We met her that day!'

Sirius was looking grim. 'She let us into the closet,' he said.

For a few seconds, Hermione did not say anything. Then, she whispered, 'Tell me the details.'

Sirius read through the article quickly and feverishly. 'She lives in a group of flats in Madison,' he said, 'With her boyfriend- one Derik Schulz. They found the bodies only yesterday, but experts say that the murder took place on the night of the 2nd. Her neighbor- a Mrs. Prattle- seems to have seen someone enter the building, but details have not been published, since she's absconding.'

'Absconding,' muttered Hermione. 'I think I know what that means.'

She leaned forward, and her hands gripped Sirius's nightshirt. 'This isn't a coincidence! They know.'

'Know that we found out about the closet,' Sirius mused. 'How could they? It seems fantastic. There's another problem…'

Hermione's eyes narrowed. 'What?' she asked.

Sirius looked grave, as he turned to her. 'They might have found out from Carla that we were in there,' he said.

-

Jenny gently placed the square piece of paper on his desk. It shone eerily in the lamplight. He leaned forward and gazed at it.

'So you were right,' he said.

'I told you, sir.'

'Fantastic that hardly anyone knows about it.'

'This certificate was in the cupboard the entire time.'

He stroked his jaw with a long, thin finger.

'And they went in to retrieve it?'

'I don't know what they went in to do. It wasn't my watch.'

'Very well,' he said.

She inclined an eyebrow. 'Do you want me to act?'

'Wait until I tell you to.'

-

Grabbing Sirius's hand tightly in her own, Hermione apparated precisely onto the top-most step of Grimmauld Place. Both took a moment to brush their robes, and then Sirius opened the door and pushed in.

They had expected to find the house empty, since it was hardly eight in the morning, but when they reached the kitchen they found almost everyone clustered there. Remus was sitting at the head of the table, looking wan, and Mrs. Weasley was bustling around making pancakes. When she saw Sirius and Hermione she breathlessly greeted them.

'Thank god you've come,' she said, 'Go talk to Remus. Do you want something to eat?'

They shook their heads and went over to Remus, who had his head in his hands. When Hermione touched his arm, he looked up and they saw how exhausted he was.

'What a night,' he mumbled.

Sirius said, tightly, 'Have you read the Daily Prophet this morning?'

'I haven't had a chance to,' Remus mumbled.

Sirius rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a copy.

'There you go,' he said, 'Front page.'

Remus tiredly took the newspaper from Sirius. His eyes scanned it, and fell on the article in question. They slid down the page, and then lightened slightly.

'So that's what they have to say, is it?'

'What's that supposed to mean?' asked Hermione. 'In case you didn't notice, that's another Ministry death.'

'True,' said Remus, gravely. 'And that of a completely unconnected man named Derek Schulz. It's terrible.'

'It's also a lead,' pointed out Sirius. 'We need to find out more about it, but that's going to be difficult. You notice that the only witness is absconding?'

Remus sighed, and put the paper down, carefully avoiding a mug of coffee.

'She isn't absconding,' he said, tiredly. 'She's upstairs, as of now.'


	16. The Mysterious Mrs Prattle

**CHAPTER 16**

_August 14__th__, 8:30 PM, Auror Headquarters_

Tonks yawned widely, and pushed her paper cup of coffee away from her. The day was almost done, several reports taken care of, and she could probably leave in about fifteen minutes. If she reached Grimmauld Place by nine, Molly would have dinner ready and hot.

She tucked a few papers into a brown packet, and stood up. She was just reaching up to put them into a higher file, when she heard a bustling commotion, and the door snapped open.

A young woman stood there. She had a wide, freckled face and inquisitive eyes. When she saw Tonks, her eyes widened slightly.

'Are you Nymphadora Tonks?' she asked, breathlessly.

'Just Tonks, yes,' she replied, feeling a prick of annoyance.

_Oh, how that name aggravated her._

'I'm so pleased to meet you,' the woman said, still breathless. 'Please, let me introduce myself. My name is Anne Tulley, I'm from the Daily Prophet.'

Tonks narrowed her eyes. 'You're a reporter?'

'I was wondering if I could have a few words-'

'Sorry, I'm extremely busy,' said Tonks, 'Ask one of the juniors to talk to you.'

Anne was persistent. 'It would be wonderful, you know, if I could quote you in this article I'm writing.'

Tonks rolled her eyes. She knew what reporters could be like. She simply leaned back, and let the woman's words wash over her.

'…article on efficiency,' she was saying, 'Given the recent spate of Ministry Deaths, I think…'

Tonks bit her lip. Ministry deaths indeed. What did this woman know about it?

'..Especially given the last one. The neighbor was a witness, apparently. The Ministry doesn't know about it, but I have a colleague who-'

Tonks's eyes flew open. 'What?' she demanded. 'What did you say?'

Anne looked surprised. 'I- um…'

'About the Ministry death,' Tonks said, roughly. 'The latest one, when was it?'

'It was- well- it's not officially discovered, but my- colleague found out about it just this evening- it- it's a girl, and her boyfriend, down at Madison-'

'Which flat?' growled Tonks.

'Third floor, to the right,' said Anne, who now looked terrified. 'I- I don't know if we're supposed to…'

'I'll spare you if you did anything illegal to find out about it,' Tonks muttered, grabbing her wand. She waved it viciously, and her large Patronus blossomed and charged off to find Remus. 'I'll give you a full interview later.'

And she left the room.

-

Both Remus and Kingsley came, and she met them at the Ministry entrance. Her Patronus had been coherent, and they both knew exactly what was going on. They wasted no time.

'Where?' asked Remus.

At the reply, he grabbed her hand and they apparated, Kingsley not far behind. The inside of the building was tatty and whitewashed. They whirled around to the right, and saw wooden door, painting in peeling white. It was tightly shut.

Tonks pressed her wand against it, and muttered, 'Alohomora.'

It swung open a bit, and creaked the rest of the way. In a quick, fluid motion, Kingsley disillusioned the three of them. Moving quietly, they entered the flat. The smell reached their noses soon enough, and before long they were standing before the two bodies in the living room- a black-haired woman, with terror inscribed on her face, and a scrawny man who looked horrified.

'What do we do?' asked Tonks, alarmed.

'Look around for something- anything suspicious. Signs of breaking in, blood, anything…'

They spread out and searched the flat. But half an hour later, after rummaging through several piles of limp underwear, stale food, dirty dishes and cheap thriller novels, they had found nothing out of ordinary. A quick charm on the door proved that it had not been forced open by magic.

'They knew whoever it was,' whispered Tonks. 'They let them in.' She suddenly tensed. 'Remus, the reporter woman said that the neighbor had seen something. I think we should…'

'The house opposite,' muttered Kingsley. They moved out of the flat, and he locked it behind them. 'Don't want the Ministry officials to know anyone's been here,' he explained, grimly. 'They'll be here soon enough, maybe even tonight…'

They walked across the corridor, and knocked on the door opposite. Tonks kept throwing nervous glances behind her. If the Prophet reporters had found out about these deaths, then Ministry officials couldn't be far behind. And not all of them had good intentions.

The door opened, and a thin woman with a rabbity face and narrow eyes surveyed them. Sh was wearing a gray wool cap, and bits of fly-away hair the same color emerged from underneath.

'Can I help you?' she asked.

Tonks took a deep breath, 'We'd like to talk to you for a moment,' she said, 'we're from the Auror department.'

The woman's eyes widened. 'What do you want?' she asked.

Remus glanced behind them. He wasn't comfortable, talking like this in the corridor, but the woman was barring all entry into her flat with her musty dressing-gown clad body.

'We just need to speak to you,' he said, a little desperately. 'About something that happened a while back.'

The woman continued to glance suspiciously at him.

'What's your name?' she demanded.

'Remus Lupin,' he said, 'and this is Tonks- and that's Mr. Shacklebolt.'

Her eyes widened when she saw Kingsley. Obviously she recognized him.

'My name's Prattle,' she breathed. 'What can I- I mean- why do you want to talk to me?'

They glanced at each other, somewhat clueless.

'Er,' said Tonks, 'We wanted to know if- maybe- do you remember if anybody came to visit the girl in the opposite flat sometime back?'

Ms. Prattle looked a little surprised. Then, she frowned, in an effort to remember.

'Well,' she said, 'Let me see, now. Now that you come to mention it- haven't seen anybody go in there to meet Carla for quite a while. There was a couple a while back- a girl- someone else, cloaked, I reckon…' she noticed them tense. 'Is something the matter?' she asked.

Tonks shook her head. 'No,' she replied, 'We just wanted to-'

She got cut off here. With a loud thump and a stifled swear, something came tripping down the stairs from the upper floor. The three of them whirled around, wands ready, to see a woman with a Quick Quotes Quill and a camera stumbling into view, an apprehensive look on her face.

'You!' Tonks said, furiously. It was Anne Tulley. 'What are you doing here?'

'Who the hell is she?' asked Remus.

'It's that reporter woman- what the hell is she…'

'I'M HERE!' roared Anne. 'HURRY UP JACK, THEY'VE FOUND ME- GET THE OFFICIALS-'

Immediately, Kingsley cut her off with a silencing spell. They whirled around once more, to find Ms. Prattle staring.

'What's that?' she asked, stupidly.

'Remus- the officials are coming!'

'I know!' he panted. 'Miss- Ms. Prattle- we need to take you with us for a while.'

'Absolutely not!' she snapped. 'I have no clue who you are- but knocking over a poor reporter like that- it's absolutely…'

Her body stiffened and keeled over, as Remus hit her with a stunning spell. Tonks gazed desperately over their shoulder. Hard footsteps sounded on the stairs- they were coming up fast.

'Quick!' muttered Kingsley. He grabbed Tonks by the hand, and placed another on Remus's shoulder. Remus clutched the stunned woman's wrist. In a flash, Kingsley had apparated all of them to the top most step of Grimmauld Place.

-

'That stupid woman must have heard us tell her about the girl and the cloaked character,' said Tonks, who still looked angry. 'I guess she followed me, when she realized I was going there- wanted some pictures, and stuff.'

Hermione looked terrified.

'Tonks,' she whispered, 'If that- if that reporter knows that the three of you were there, she can tell Ministry officials- they'll know that you went.'

'You needn't worry,' Kingsley assured her, in his deep voice. 'I cast a partial memory charm on her just before we left.'

'And anyway,' said Remus grimly, 'I have a distinct feeling that whoever killed Carla already got out of her that you and Sirius had been in the closet. It looks like they're catching onto us.'

Hermione groaned, and buried her head in her hands. Unconsciously, Sirius leaned over and stroked her hair.

'Did you speak to Prattle?' she asked, through her fingers.

Remus shook his head. 'The woman is refusing to open her mouth,' he said, a little sadly, 'Keeps telling us we're a bunch of hoodlums and she didn't expect such behavior of Kingsley. When last I left her, she was informing me that my ears were lopsided.'

Sirius snorted with laughter, and Remus threw him a dirty look.

'I think I can handle this,' Hermione said, 'I have some Veritaserum in my handbag,'

Sirius looked interested. 'You do?'

She nodded. 'I carry a bit with me pretty much all the time. Old war reflexes, you know.'

'Well, they certainly seem to be holding up right now,' said Remus, impressed. 'Why don't we go up and give it to her? I know it sounds immoral, but under the circumstances…'

'You're still smarting from the ear comment, aren't you?' smirked Sirius.

Remus did not dignify this remark with a response.

'I'd call Ginny,' he said, doggedly ignoring his best friend, 'But she's sleeping in today.'

'I'll come,' said Tonks.

So the four of them walked upstairs, to the room where Sirius' mother had once lived, and Buckbeak had once been cooped. Hermione and Sirius pushed open the door and stepped inside. Ms. Prattle was sitting on the bed, her arms tightly folded over her pink dressing-gown and her eyes narrowed.

'Is it you again, then?' she asked, loudly. 'I thought I told you to stay out of my room!'

'This is my house,' said Sirius, picking his way through the bones that Buckbeak had scattered on the ground when last he stayed here. Ms. Prattle was obviously not pleased with her accommodations.

She whirled around when she heard the new voice.

'Well, if I can finally assume you are someone of authority around here, I'll have you know that I demand to be taken back to my home at once,' she said, bitingly.

'We want to talk to you, first,' said Sirius.

She snorted in a brittle, old-lady way. 'Oh, _talk_, my left jelly-jam toe!' she said, in scathing tones. 'As if I'd want to mingle with likes of you, after the way you knocked over that poor dear woman…'

'Anne Tulley was not a poor dear,' said Tonks, bitterly. 'She was a conniving bitch, and let me assure you that under the circumstances of more time I would have cut her filthy little head off.'

Ms. Prattle's eyes widened dramatically. 'Such language!' she proclaimed. 'How dare you bring me here without my assent?'

'Why,' said Tonks, in tones of mock surprise, 'because you refused to give it to us.'

Hermione chortled, and then approached the angry woman.

'Ms. Prattle,' she said, soothingly, 'We just want to ask you a few questions.'

'I'll answer _nothing_!' declared Ms. Prattle, and she wound her arms and legs around her brittle old body as far as they would go.

Hermione sighed. 'Well,' she said, 'We did give you a chance.'

Before Prattle could respond, she had stunned the woman. Remus caught her body before it toppled off the chair.

'Here,' said Hermione, carefully handing him the vial of Veritaserum. Remus uncorked it, and poured three drops into Prattle's mouth. Replacing the stopper, he handed it back to Hermione.

'Enervate,' he muttered, pointing his wand at the woman.

She woke up immediately, her eyes snapping wide open. However, they soon drooped down and became unfocused. This time, her attitude was one of compliance.

'Can we ask you a few questions?' asked Hermione, leaning over her. Sirius rolled his eyes, but she felt that they might as well be polite, despite her being in a drug-induced torpor of truthfulness.

'Yes,' replied Prattle.

'We want to ask you about the visitors that Carla had on the 2nd of April,' Hermione continued. Now that the Ministry had established- and printed- that that was indeed the date of their murder, it made things easier.

'There was a girl,' replied Ms. Prattle, blankly, 'And another person, in a cloak. I don't know if it was a man or woman. I was watching out of my peep-hole, and they didn't know I could see. Both held wands. The girl knocked on the door, and Derek opened it. She asked him if something which I didn't hear. Derek fetched Carla, and the person at the door lifted his hood a bit, but I couldn't see who it was. Carla invited them in. That's the last I saw of it.' She said.

'What did this girl look like?' asked Tonks.

Ms. Prattle chewed her lip for a moment. 'She was tall, and thin,' she said, finally, 'She was wearing dark green robes. And she had brass hair- arranged all around her head, in some funny way.'

Sirius frowned. 'That's not very descriptive,' he said, 'Can't you tell us more?'

'She was wearing large earrings,' said Prattle, 'Diamonds, big ones.'

Sirius rolled his eyes. 'Anything else?'

'Yes,' she said, dully, 'When the cloaked person drew out their wand, I saw a scar on their wrist. It was white- in the shape of snake, or a squiggle.'

Remus's eyes widened. 'Something tangible at last,' he muttered. 'But I don't think this woman has anything more to say to us.'

'Are you going to send her back?' asked Hermione.

Remus shook his head. 'She's in a lot of danger, even if she doesn't understand it,' he said, 'She'll have to stay here, for now. Unfortunately, I'll have to keep locking in her. We better go down- in an hour or so the Veritaserum will stop working, and then she'll be back to her charming self.'

Hermione nodded, and with a pang of regret she left the room with the others. Remus turned and locked it before they headed downstairs again.


	17. The Beginning

**AN- Finally, something that will keep everyone who wanted some romance/smut happy. One of you reviewed saying that the romantic build-up in this story was too slow. I'm really sorry if you felt that way, but I've tried to stay realistic, so I hope you understand when you read this chapter.**

**Thanks so much for all of you who reviewed! It's very encouraging, and I really love all of you.**

**CHAPTER 17**

'Something will turn up,' said Hermione soothingly, over lunch. They were seated at the table at Grimmauld Place, and Mrs. Weasley had cooked up some goulash, which was she serving around the table.

Sirius growled. 'That stupid woman,' he muttered. 'She couldn't even have seen that cloaked person's face.'

'Be reasonable, Sirius,' Remus said, sharply. 'How could she help it? Anyway, she told us about the scar, that's something, isn't it?'

'Are we supposed to go and peer at the wrist of every person in the Ministry, then?' demanded Sirius. He quickly calmed down. 'Okay, I guess it wasn't her fault- but that doesn't make it any more irritating, you know.'

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment everyone was distracted by a large black owl that was tapping its beak against the kitchen window. Mrs. Weasley jumped up, and slid down the glass.

The owl hopped in, and held out its foot.

'Hermione, dear, it's for you,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'Good lord- it looks like a Ministry owl.'

Hermione and Sirius exchanged quick glances that contained an entire conversation in them.

_Your interview results?_

_I think so._

_Best of luck._

_Thanks._

She catapulted out of her chair, and tore across to the owl, who hooted dismissively.

'Thanks,' she muttered, as with fumbling fingers she tore of the letter. It was, in fact, from the Ministry and was addressed to her in crisp, curling letters.

Trembling a little, she slit open the envelope, and pulled out the sheet of parchment inside. The letter was written in green ink.

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_This letter is written with regard to an interview that you gave at the Ministry of Magic on the 2__nd__ of August. We are pleased to inform you that you have received a post as a Legislator of this term's Wizengamot. Your period of working will begin day-after, on the 17__th__. ._

_Best regards,_

_Dragomir Kaploffe._

Hermione stared at the letter she held in her shaking hands. The room was deathly silent. Sirius was the first person to speak.

'Well?' he asked. 'What happened.'

She looked breathlessly up at him. He had got off his chair, and crossed the kitchen, now standing directly opposite her.

'I got in!' she squealed. 'I got the job!'

Immediately, there was an uproar.

'Excellent!' bellowed Fred. 'You're a Ministry witch now!'

'My dear, this is simply wonderful,' Arthur began, but was interrupted by his wife, who threw her arms around Hermione.

'Oh, dear, this is so- so lovely,' she said, between sobs, 'You've got the job- we always knew you would, you've been so capable, ever since you were a child…'

Praise upon praise were heaped upon her. Hermione caught Sirius's eye over Mrs. Weasley's shoulder and he winked. Both were remembering the uproar she had caused when she learned about their marriage.

He waited until Mrs. Weasley had let go off her, and then leaned over, and whispered, 'Congratulations, Mrs. Black.' He said it grimly.

'Thank you,' she whispered back.

At that moment, George swooped her up into a big hug, and Sirius was pushed back. He mouthed to her, 'We'll take about this later.'

_Oh, yes_, thought Hermione, bleakly, _they would._

* * *

'I worked hard for this job, Sirius, and I'm not giving it up.' Hermione said, firmly.

His eyes seemed to be slightly darker than normal. When he spoke, it was with forced calm.

'Hermione, you know as well as anyone that I'm not asking you to do that,' he said, 'It isn't my right and I'm not that kind of person.'

'Fine!' she huffed, throwing herself onto her grandmother's favorite oyster-silk duvet. 'So then what do you want?'

'I want you to be careful,' said Sirius, slowly and deliberately, 'We _know_ something's going on in the Ministry, wouldn't it be foolish to get carried away, with that? Don't treat this like an ordinary job or accomplishment- you need to keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth closed.'

He said last bit she as she opened her mouth to retaliate. She immediately snapped it shut, furious. For a few seconds there was silence.

'You're right,' she said, finally, 'I should have thought of this before.' Her shoulders slumped slightly. She leaned back on the couch and chewed on her lip, trying to keep her eyes clear. Exhaustion and mental tiredness seemed to have sucked her into some sort of depression, and she suddenly wanted to blubber.

Sighing softly, Sirius walked across to the couch, and sat down beside her, before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a deep hug. Hermione pressed her palms and her face against his chest, breathing deeply and willing herself not cry.

After a few moments, she said, in a muffled voice, 'What did you see the night of Harry's birthday?'

He stiffened slightly, but did not remove his hands. Instead, they crept up her neck and began to stroke her hair.

'Well,' he said, slowly, 'I saw a very pretty girl, firstly. But I also saw someone who was funny, and smart and who I could hold an easy conversation with.'

'Is that enough to build a relationship on?' wondered Hermione. There was no pretense left, as he pulled her closer to him and kept her there.

'Enough to begin with, I suppose,' he said, bending down and kissing the top of her head. 'But, oh, there's so much more. There's her absolute sarcasm, inability to cook, reluctance to listen to orders and her temporary insanity.'

Hermione chuckled. He felt it against his chest.

'Want me to start?' she asked him.

'No,' he muttered. 'There won't be any need for that.'

He let go off her, and she drew back and stared at him for a moment, her eyes contemplative. Sirius drew his gaze over the faint perspiration on her forehead, the slight frown and the gentle incline of her nose that suggested she was debating something.

'Well?' he asked, softly.

She touched his cheek. 'It's all very strange, isn't it?' she murmured. 'All this that's happening.'

She wasn't just referring to the fiasco at the Ministry, and he knew it.

'I suppose so,' he said, 'But I don't really care, you know.'

Hermione said, 'Sirius, I don't know if this is something that- well- means, or will last. It could just be all the pressure, you know. It's only been a few weeks since we were married.'

'Maybe,' he said, pressing a kiss against her brow, 'But again, I don't care.'

Hermione smiled, softly. 'Neither do I,' she said, and leaning forward she traced the outline of his lips with her index finger, before leaning in and kissing him.

Her mouth was soft against his, and Sirius gripped her cheeks in his hands, before deepening it. His tongue drew across her mouth, and then they were pushing against each other, smooth and velvety. Hermione was the first to break the kiss. She drew back, and then leaning forward, she brushed her lips against his ear.

Sirius's eyes fluttered shut and he leaned back, as she climbed over him. Straddling him, she continued her ministrations to his ear, before trailing her down his neck and paying particular attention to his collar bones. A harsh gasp escaped Sirius as she gently bit down on the protruding ridge and then sucked.

'That's going to show tomorrow,' he rasped.

'Oh, right,' she whispered, between soft kisses. 'Who cares?'

He groaned again, as her tongue slid down and her fingers made quick work of his shirt buttons, before pushing it off his shoulders and splaying across his ribs. Bending down in a smooth, rhythmic movement, Hermione captured a nipple gently between her teeth, and flicked her tongue over.

This time, he moaned deeply.

'Fuck, Hermione,' he whispered. 'Where the hell did you learn to do that?'

She chuckled against his body, and let her hands trail down his abs, gently touching and stroking them. Just as her fingers reached navel-level, his own hands gripped her arms and hauled her back up.

'And just where do you think you're going?' he demanded, eyes darkened with lust.

She feigned surprise. 'Why, Mr. Black- I was just heading south.'

If possible, his eyes darkened even more.

'Not till I've had my turn, _Mrs._ Black,' he said, stressing on the last word. Dragging her up to lip level, he smashed his mouth against hers. There was no pretense of gentleness now. He ravaged her mouth, before sinking to her neck and biting deeply. Hermione felt the blood rush from her brain and savored the feeling of his teeth against her hot, sensitive skin. Rough hands and tattooed knuckles fumbled with her shirt buttons, and dragged it off her so it hung limply by her elbows. His mouth dipped lower, brushing the top of her cotton bra. Fingers eased around her back, and touched her sensitive shoulder blades.

He was quick to find out which her especially susceptible spots were, using her moans and breathing as a personal sonar. His hands splayed across her back, and unclasped her bra with the ease of a well-practiced man. Dragging it off her arms, he threw it aside with her shirt, and pulled her to him. His mouth trailed to the cleft between her breasts, before brushing against her vulnerable areas. His strokes were gentle and teasing, and her breathing was becoming more and more exasperated.

'What's the matter?' he murmured, between gentle nuzzles.

'More,' she snapped, and he stifled a grin at how irate she could sound even in such a position, 'Goddamn you, Sirius Black, give me more!'

'If you say so,' he whispered, and closed his mouth over a flushed nipple. Hermione moaned and arched her back against his large hands, as his tongue moved with agility of a dancer and flicked and sucked her into carnal heaven. He inclined his head, so that the coarse stubble on his jaw brushed against her skin and she whimpered. She didn't think anything had ever felt so damn good.

'Sirius…' she whispered.

'I think we should continue this in the bedroom, don't you?' he husked, raising his head and breathing hotly in her ear. She smiled softly, and got up off his lap, before reaching out and holding out her hand. Sirius took it.

'Let me lead the way,' she said, unflinchingly.

He smiled, and ducked in for a quick kiss, before stepping back and observing the topless wonder before him. She had nothing on except a pair of jeans. There was no awkwardness or unease about her- she surveyed him frankly and without shame.

'The bedroom, I think?' she asked.

Sirius was just about reply, when with a loud crack, someone apparated into the room


	18. Interruption

**CHAPTER 18**

'Sirius!' called Remus, loudly, as he apparated into their flat. 'I need to talk to you for-'

His eyes froze, as he took in a bedraggled Sirius with a hickey on his collar, Hermione- who had swung her hands up to her chest and seemed to be entirely topless- and both their shirts plus one limp bra on the floor.

'Argh!' he yelled, bringing both his hands to his eyes and covering them furiously. 'Shit! I'm so sorry! What were you two- what were you even- I mean, what the hell was happening, anyway?'

'Whatever it was, you just interrupted it Moony,' said Sirius.

He sounded pissed off. Remus winced.

He heard movements through his closed eyes, and figured that they were probably picking their clothes off the ground and putting them on. He waited until Sirius said, 'All clear, now,' before dropping his hands.

'Come to the kitchen,' said Hermione, before he could open his mouth. 'I'll make tea.'

She hurried off in that direction. Remus decided to capitalize on her momentary absence, and turned to speak to Sirius, but he had stomped off after her.

He shook his head, in disbelief. _I must be dreaming._

When he entered the kitchen, Hermione had a saucepan to boil, and Sirius was sitting on the counter, his long legs crossed on the floor. For one second, it hit Remus that they had really begun to act like a married couple.

_In more ways than one_, he thought grimly.

'Tea?' asked Hermione, shortly, slamming a cup on the table.

'Thanks,' said Remus, weakly.

He opened his mouth again, but Sirius held up a hand.

'Don't bother, Moony,' he said, warningly. 'There's no need for any lectures.'

'I wasn't going to lecture,' Remus protested.

'Or reprimands,' said Hermione, as she handed Sirius a cup.

'That I can't entirely promise,' said Remus, with a faint frown. 'Want to tell me what's up?'

'No,' Hermione informed him.

'I'm going to ask anyway.'

Sirius threw up his hands. 'For god's sake, Moony, we're married!'

'Under unusual circumstances,' reminded Remus, severely. 'And everything isn't exactly hunky-dory right now, anyway.'

'That's exactly why we're doing this,' snapped Sirius, as Hermione went about banging cups and pots in the kitchen. 'We're both stressing.'

'So you have sex?' demanded Remus, disbelievingly.

'Why not?' challenged Sirius. More bangs from Hermione.

'Are you in love?' asked Remus.

The ceramic pot Hermione had been about to bang slipped from her hand and crashed on the floor, immediately shattering. She didn't pay a speck of attention. Instead, she said, 'No, we're not in love, Remus, we were just- just…'

'Just what?' asked Remus. Too late, he caught the look on Hermione's face, and understood her distemper.

'I'm not judging you!' he said, quickly. 'If you two want to have something casual, I have no problem! But what the hell are you going to do when Molly finds out?'

Sirius shuddered. 'She won't,' he said, firmly.

Remus raised an eyebrow.

'Look, who's going to tell her?' asked Sirius. 'In fact, who's going to tell anybody?'

'I didn't see a thing,' Remus said, drawing a finger across his heart. 'You can count on me.'

Sirius's posture relaxed a bit, and even Hermione seemed a little less stiff. She brought out some cake and set it on the table.

'Thanks,' said Sirius, taking a large bite. 'What did you want to talk about, Moony?'

Remus finished swallowing his mouthful, and then said, 'I think tomorrow we should visit Roran White.'

Hermione immediately sat up straight. 'I'm coming too,' she said.

'Don't you have work?' asked Remus, taking another bite of cake.

'No, I only start day-after,' she explained, 'And I really want to meet this guy.'

Sirius chewed thoughtfully on some cake. 'I guess we can head to his place about ten or eleven in the morning,' he said, 'That still gives you enough time to come home and organize stuff for your first day.'

Hermione smiled softly. 'Sure,' she said.

'I'll meet you guys, then,' Remus promised. 'Only you apparate to Grimmauld Place- I don't think I can bare seeing what I just did again.'

After he had left, Sirius turned to Hermione.

'There's no point, is there?' he asked, quietly.

She shook her head. 'He just totally killed the moment.'

Sirius sighed, and got up.

'Oh, well,' he said, 'I think I'm going to go for a walk.'

-

After Sirius left, Hermione made herself a vat-size mug of ferociously hot tea, and took it out to the balcony where they had spent their first night. It had been only two weeks back, but for some reason, it seemed to range in the realm of eternity. Too much was happening, and too quickly.

Her feelings for Sirius were not rational. No matter how much she regretted their impromptu marriage, she could not ignore the sparkle of romance in it. Living with him, sharing a bed with him, being _his_ woman- all of them often combusted with his intensely good looks to make her view him in a somewhat different light from what she used to earlier.

She thought idly of the hot kisses he peppered down her neck and her front. They had turned her on more than any experience she had had before- excluding the last time they had slept together, given she didn't remember it. She traced a finger down her neck, and rested it against an area where she knew a prominent hickey had formed.

The more she thought about it, she realized that she should have been thankful for Remus's turning up. A sexual relationship with Sirius- given their circumstances- would complicate things magnificently. And as Remus said, everything wasn't really hunky-dory at present. It would be best if she and Sirius remained platonic, they way they always had been.

And if she couldn't stop thinking of the amazing things his tongue could do, she had no choice but to keep her horny fingers to herself.

-

When Sirius got home, he shut the door behind him, and looked around for Hermione. He spotted her right away. She was smiling at him from the couch, the book she had been reading rested gently on her lap.

'I'm back,' he said, weakly.

She chuckled. 'Talk about stating the obvious. How was your walk?'

He shrugged. 'I'm sorry for walking out. I needed some fresh air.'

She held up a hand. 'Don't apologize,' she said, 'You needed time alone and so did I. Sirius…' her voice trailed off.

He crossed the room, and sat down beside her. Her legs were curled under her, and she reached out and took both his hands in hers.

'I guess we need to talk,' he said.

She nodded, soberly. 'I know we thought we could keep this casual,' she said, 'But- but I guess I think…'

'It would become too complicated.' He supplied. 'I was thinking the same thing.'

'Not that it wasn't good or anything-'

'Definitely not,' Sirius said, with a smirk.

Hermione laughed and punched his arm. 'I'm glad you understand,' she said, 'I guess we need to get this Ministry issue out of the way, first.'

'And then our divorce,' Sirius said. 'Maybe when we're not married anymore, we can start dating.'

He leaned back into the couch, and Hermione snuggled into his arms.

'You're right,' she said, dreamily. 'Maybe we can…'


	19. The Polaroid Picture

**AN- I'm so sorry for taking so long! I've been really stressing of late, because of college and stuff! But this one is decently long, so don't hate me?**

**CHAPTER 19**

They were both exhausted, both physically and mentally, and ended up sleeping on the couch that night- Sirius with his long body draped across the fabric, and Hermione curled up on top of him, her legs tangled with his and her cheek pressed against his chest. They woke late the next morning, both feeling sleepy and groggy, and decidedly stiff from their night on the couch.

To Hermione's relief, things weren't awkward or uncomfortable between them at all. She woke up first, and headed to the kitchen, and as usual, Sirius trooped in a few minutes later, blaming her for getting up so early. She made two cups of coffee, and he winked at her as she handed him his. She punched him on the arm, reveling on the feeling of comfort she shared with him.

'I'm headed to the shower, now,' she told him.

He casually sipped his coffee, 'Get ready, quick. We're going to Tovah Avenue.'

Hermione frowned. 'Is that where White lives?'

He nodded. 'We'll apparate to Grimmauld Place when we're ready, and take Remus with us.'

Hermione showered quickly, and slipped into a creamy-white slip-dress. After Sirius took over the bathroom, she fixed her hair into a chignon and slipped into a pair of black flats.

'You look nice,' he commented, walking out of the shower. Hermione did not respond at once. She found the picture of a bare-chested Sirius, with water dripping out of his hair somewhat distracting.

'Hmm,' she said, 'Yes- thank you…'

He smirked, as though he knew exactly what was going on in her mind, (which, she thought bitterly, he probably did) and began to dress. After he had slipped into a white button-up shirt, he touched her palm and they apparated to Grimmauld Place.

The kitchen was practically empty today. Mrs. Weasley was fixing something at the stove, and Remus was reading a copy of the Prophet at the table. No one else seemed to be up.

'Good morning,' said Remus, getting up, 'You look nice, Hermione. Are we leaving now?'

'I want to just see Ms. Prattle before we go,' said Hermione, removing herself from Sirius's arm. 'She was pretty upset when we left her last.'

Sirius rolled his eyes, but Mrs. Weasley turned around, and held up a tray of pancakes and a jar of maple syrup.

'If you're going, could you take this up to her, my dear?' she asked, adding apologetically, 'I'd go, but I need to make more. The other's should be up soon.'

Hermione took the platter, and climbed up to Sirius's mother's old room. She held her wand in the other hand, and gently opened the door.

'Ms. Prattle?' she called.

No reply.

For a moment, Hermione feared the worst. She pushed the door open, and stepped inside. To her relief, she saw Ms. Prattle, curled up the on moldy divan and fast asleep.

Hermione called a little louder, and she shuddered and opened her eyes. She flashed her a smile.

'Good morning, Ms. Prattle,' she said, holding out the platter. 'I brought you some breakfast.'

Ms. Prattle sat up and rubbed her narrow eyes, only to remove her knuckles and watch her suspiciously.

'Breakfast, is it? Sure it's not been poisoned?'

'Absolutely,' said Hermione, cheerfully. 'There's pancakes, and Mrs. Weasley sent up some maple syrup.'

Ms. Prattle muttered that she had no clue who Weasley was, but she took the platter and began tucking in gratefully.

Hermione glanced about the room, which looked dismal and dingy. She moved about, whisking open curtains and windows and letting fresh air in.

'I'm sorry the room's so terrible,' she said, ruefully, 'It hasn't been used for a long time.'

Ms. Prattle did not reply. 'And really,' continued Hermione, 'the smell is something appalling. Give me a minute…' she held up her wand, and muttered, '_Scourgify!'_

Instantly, the room smelled fresher. She took a deep breath, and then twirled her wand again, this time adding a faint scent of lavender to the air, before smiling and admiring her handiwork.

'I can't do that.'

Hermione turned around. Prattle was watching her dully.

'What?'

'I can't do that,' said Prattle, quietly. She saw Hermione's puzzled expression, and said, 'You see, I'm a squib.'

Hermione quickly remembered that Prattle had seen the cloaked man draw a wand, but didn't seem to own one of her own.

'Oh,' she said. 'I- I'm sorry.'

Prattle laughed bitterly. 'You needn't be, I'm sorry enough for the both of us. The stigma…'

She drew a long breath, and shuddered.

'I know what that feels like. I'm a Muggleborn.' Hermione said, inaudibly.

Prattle turned to look at her, eyes filled wit interest. 'Are you now?' she asked inclining her head. 'A Muggleborn in the House of Black. This place _is_ the House of Black, isn't it?'

Hermione frowned. 'How did you know?'

Prattle pointed to the carved brackets on the wall. The crest of the family was carefully inscribed on them.

'I spent time researching pureblood lineages,' she explained. 'That's the Black crest.'

'Well, you're right,' Hermione said, cautiously. 'This is the House of Black.'

'Last in the line of lineage- Sirius Black,' mused Prattle, closing her eyes for a moment in an effort to remember. 'I'm assuming he's the black-haired man who helped you accost me?'

Hermione swallowed. 'Yes, that was him,' she said, nervously.

'Friend of yours?' asked Prattle, her eyes still closed.

'Husband,' Hermione said, quietly.

Prattle's eyes opened. '_Is_ he now?' she asked, in tones of great amusement. 'That's quite interesting, isn't it?'

'I- I don't know what you mean,' Hermione said, shortly.

Prattle simply cackled. 'All right dear,' she said, in tones of good humor, 'Here's the platter, I've had enough. And don't apologize for the accommodations- I quite understand, you know.'

-

'How is she?' asked Mrs. Weasley, anxiously, as Hermione headed down.

Hermione shrugged. She wasn't too sure herself.

'Fine, I think,' she said, non-committed, 'we even talked for a bit.'

Sirius and Remus leveled her gazes of apprehension.

'What?' she asked, defensively. 'She told me she was a squib – and then I told her I was a Muggleborn- so she wanted to know what I was doing in the House of Black.'

Sirius's brow furrowed immediately. 'How does she know this place?' he demanded.

Hermione said, 'She saw the crest in one of the brackets in the room. She researches stuff like this, apparently.'

'Oh, well,' said Remus, 'As long as she's fine- I suppose we should go now, Padfoot?'

'Where does he live?' asked Hermione, as Sirius drew out a pot of glittering powder from the mantelpiece.

'He lives in Tovah,' Sirius muttered, as he grabbed a handful of the powder. 'It's a very posh place, you know- southern avenue. Oh, well, I'll go first.'

He stepped up the mantelpiece, and said, 'Flat B, Tovah,' and stepped in.

There was a flash of green flame, and he vanished.

'Give me your hand,' Remus said. 'We'll go together. It's an unfamiliar address and I don't want you getting lost. Bye Molly. We'll be back for lunch, all right?'

'You do that,' said Mrs. Weasley wiping her soapy hands on her apron. 'And be _careful_.'

They both nodded. Hermione gripped Remus's wrist, as he threw a handful of powder into the flames, and called out the same address that Sirius had. They stepped into the flames, and Hermione closed her eyes as she felt the familiar sensation of soot and flames lick her skin. She and Remus were whirled around madly for a few minutes, before she landed on a hard, cold stone-floor. She almost toppled over, but Remus caught her arms and steadied her.

'Okay there?' he asked.

She nodded. 'Have we apparated straight into his apartment?'

Remus nodded, and cast a look around warily. 'It might be rude, but we don't want to give him an opportunity to get away. He is a Ministry official, you know, he might not want to spill any beans.'

Hermione nodded, and looked around. The flat was small, but furnished nicely, with clean tiling and soft chairs. There was a large, oval dining-table, with a golden vase filled with plastic begonias. Everything seemed to glimmer silently and stilly.

'Where's Sirius?' Hermione whispered.

Remus shrugged slightly. His hand clamped around Hermione's, and both of them drew their wands. They inched past the oval table, and entered a bedroom. There were large, gilt-framed pictures on the bedside table, and a goldfish in a bowl. Sirius was not there.

They crossed across the flat, and found another closed door. Remus pushed it open.

Sirius was standing inside, wand in hand, and alert. When he saw it was them, he relaxed and dropped his arm.

'Oh, it's you,' he said.

'Found anything?' asked Hermione.

'Such as Mr. White himself?' Remus added.

Sirius shook his head. 'He doesn't seem to be at home,' he replied. 'His bed hasn't been slept in for a few days, by the look of it, and the food in the refrigerator seems untouched- I already checked.'

Hermione moved forward. The room they were in was some sort of study. There was a desk in the far corner, and three walls were lined with bookshelves.

She walked to the desk, and pulled open a drawer.

'We don't have time to go through everything,' Sirius warned. 'I have a feeling we should leave this place. Roran White is obviously not here.'

'Let's just have a look,' Hermione muttered. She rummaged amongst the papers, until she found an official Ministry envelope. Opening it, she found a sheet of paper with a hastily scrawled message.

_Amanda Houston, Flat 56, Hetteridge, to Southern Bacon, 4:56 PM. Portal No. 90._

Her hand tensed slightly as she read through it. Silently, she handed it to Sirius.

'Oh my god,' he muttered. 'The portal.'

'He works in the Apparition office,' Hermione reminded, as Remus took the note and went through it.

She dove back into the drawer, and this time, she found a Polaroid picture. She picked it up, but the people in it remained stagnant, and she realized that it had been taken by an ordinary Muggle camera. She held it up to the light, and studied it.

'That's Roran,' said Sirius, pointing. He was indicating a burly, thick-set man with gingery hair and rectangular wire-glasses. He was standing beside another person, a girl, who was slender and dressed in a something bright-red and cheap looking. She had a brown scarf drawn across her hair, and diamond solitaires in her ears. Her gray eyes were glinting with laughter, and her mouth was stretched into a smile.

'Who's that?' Hermione asked.

Sirius shrugged. 'No clue. Must be a girlfriend. Does it matter?'

Hermione turned the picture from side-to-side. Something about it bothered her- rang a bell. But she wasn't able to put her finger on it, and instead, she slipped the picture into her pocket.

'Enough,' Remus muttered, as Hermione headed back to the desk. 'We shouldn't stay here any longer.'

Hermione acquiesced, and stepped back. Sirius grabbed her hand, and the three of them left the study and headed back into the living room. She felt the Polaroid rustling in her pocket, as Remus apparated the three of them to the front step of Grimmauld Place.

-

'So Roran White isn't at his house, and doesn't seem to have occupied it for a long time,' Tonks summed up, putting down her mug of coffee and pressing her fingers against her temples. 'Where does that leave us? One big, thick dead-end.'

Sirius passed her a currant bun to console herself. Tonks bit into it, looking dejected.

'It wasn't a complete loss,' Hermione protested. 'We found this-'

She handed Tonks the slip of paper with the information of Amanda Houston's portal on it. Her blue eyes widened dramatically.

'He works at the Apparition Office, doesn't he?' she said, quickly. 'So he must have been involved in her supposed self-induced splinching.'

'You're right,' Hermione agreed, taking the note back and twisting it between her fingers. 'It's proof, if nothing else. Oh- and I picked up this as well.'

She brought the Polaroid out of her pocket, and handed it to Tonks, who surveyed it with screwed up eyes.

'I'm assuming the one with glasses is Roran himself,' said Tonks, holding back the picture and observing it from an angle. 'And that must be his girlfriend. This looks like it was taken outside a restaurant, or something. Shiny lights- street- cars- see….'

Hermione nodded. 'That's what I thought,' she agreed.

'So they were coming back from a date!' snapped Sirius, throwing his arms into the air. 'Big deal! I don't know why both of you are so taken in with that picture.'

'It must be a girls and romance thing,' supplied Remus.

'It isn't that!' Hermione said, in a frustrated voice. She dug a knuckle into her cheek. 'There's something about it that makes me feel like I should be remembering something- something that someone said, very recently…'

'Hermione,' said Sirius, patiently. 'Don't you think you might be overreacting? Stress can sometimes-'

'PRATTLE!' yelled Tonks.

Remus, Sirius and Hermione turned to stare at her. She seemed to be unusually excited. Her hair had suddenly transformed into a bright shade of lime-green.

'What?' asked Remus, blinking.

'Prattle!' Tonks said, in an excited, albeit lower voice. 'Remember- what she was telling us? That woman who came to visit Carla on the 2nd- she wore large diamond earrings.'

Hermione sucked in her breath, and the frowned slightly. She grabbed the picture and held it so close to her face her eyes were crossed.

'You're right,' she breathed. 'Large diamond earrings- she said the girl was wearing them.'

'Come of it,' Sirius said. He sounded annoyed. 'Every other girl on the planet has large diamond earrings. It's an epidemic.'

'That's not the only thing,' Hermione said. With a trembling finger, she pointed to a single strand of hair that fell on the girl's face, having escaped the scarf. It was a coppery color. 'Didn't Prattle say she had hair this color?'

Sirius stared at the picture for a moment.

'Well,' he said, finally, 'Only one way to find out.'


	20. The Letter

**Surprise!**

**It's me!**

**More notes after the chapter. I don't want to distract.  
**

**CHAPTER 20**

Miss Prattle scrutinized the picture with thin, beady eyes, and then said, firmly, 'That's her.'

Hermione felt her heart thump with excitement. Her eyes fell down to the picture. Its surface was shining glossily with the afternoon light flickering off it. She noticed for the first time the casual ease with which the girl stood, the intimacy with which Roran White had wrapped his arm around her shoulder. From this angle, her broad smile was grotesquely refracted, as though she were leering toothily at someone.

'Are you sure?' demanded Sirius.

Miss Prattle cast him a contemptuous look.

'I have a brilliant memory,' she said, coldly. 'Of course that's her. I recognize her face. Her hair's covered by something disgusting and red- I don't know _what_ young people choose to wear these days- but you can see a bit of that dirty colored hair underneath, and of course, those gaudy earrings. Yes, it's definitely her.'

Remus pointed towards Roran White. 'What about him?' he asked. 'Could that be the man who was with her?'

'Now, I didn't say man, did I?' asked Prattle, holding up a finger. 'It could have been anyone, really, that second person. So heavily draped in cloaks and hoods, they would have been sweltering inside. No-' she turned the picture over, and peered myopically at Roran. 'He looks a bit too short. This person was taller.'

They digested this information silently for a moment. Hermione suddenly felt as though she were missing something: something obscure and hazy that twitched impatiently at the back of her mind. She frowned and tried to grasp it, but Miss Prattle's loud voice broke through her thoughts.

'Where did you get that picture?' she asked.

Remus looked a little taken aback. He hadn't thought she would be interested.

'Um- someone's house.' he said.

Prattle pursed her lips reproachfully. 'Stole it, did you?' she asked. 'No, Ginger, there's no point denying it- I can see it in your eyes.'

Remus's hand, which had leapt defensively to his hair at the mention of Ginger, now trailed comically down to his eyelids. Tonks hid a chuckle.

'Look, can you tell us anything more about that girl?' asked Sirius, stepping forward and crossing his arms across his chest. 'Or about that man. Have you seen him before?'

Miss Prattle frowned. 'No, I can't say that I can. I've told you everything I know about that nasty looking girl, and that- the man is a complete stranger.'

Sirius shrugged helplessly. 'Well,' he said, 'If that's all you can tell us-'

He made to move, and Remus and Tonks followed him quietly. Hermione hung behind.

'Go on,' she said, as Sirius turned to look enquiringly at her. 'I'll be along in a moment.'

A curious expression flickered across Sirius's face, and then he turned to leave. Hermione waited until the door clicked shut behind all three of them, and then turned to Prattle, who was watching her with a broad smile.

'Wanted to catch me alone, did you?'

'I'd like to talk to you.' Hermione said, seriously.

'By all means. I don't have much of a say in the matter, do I?'

Hermione took a deep breath. She was wondering how to broach the subject.

'Are you hungry?' she asked, finally.

Miss Prattle raised an eyebrow. 'What?'

'Are you- are you hungry? I mean- did someone send up lunch?'

'The fiery-headed woman did,' said Miss Prattle, comfortably. 'You don't intend to let me starve, do you- you people.'

'Of course not!' said Hermione, a little shocked. 'You're not our prisoner! Well-' she amended, quickly. 'I suppose you are, really. But we don't mean you any harm, you know. It's just that it's pretty dangerous for you to be unprotected, right now.'

Miss Prattle raised an eyebrow. 'Seems a touch presumptuous that you should imagine you know what's best for me,' she said, sardonically.

'Right now, I believe that I do. I hope you're comfortable, though. If you want anything, all you have to do is ask, you know.'

'And how exactly do I do that? It might have escaped you, but I'm kept locked in here.'

Her voice wasn't bitter, anymore. It was merely sardonic, and a little amused.

Hermione said, 'I'll ask Mrs. Weasley to send up a bell. But that isn't what I wanted to talk to you about. It's something else.'

'Shoot,' said Miss Prattle, with a little wink.

'I- what I meant to say is-' she paused, and then took a deep breath. 'You lied to Sirius just now, didn't you?'

Miss Prattle remained expressionless for a moment, and then raised her eyebrow deliberately. 'Are you talking about that long-haired hoodlum of a Black descendant?'

'That one exactly.'

She passed her tongue over chapped lips, and asked, 'And what exactly do you think I lied to him about?'

'The man in the picture,' said Hermione. 'You said he was a total stranger, but I don't think that's true. You've seen him before.'

Miss Prattle remained silent, so she pushed on. 'You have, haven't you? I saw the expression on your face.'

'Well,' said Prattle, with a little sigh. She brought her right hand to her left wrist, and encased her bony wrist with equally skeletal fingers. 'You really are observant.'

'Where have you seen him before? Do you know his name?'

She nodded, slowly. 'It's White, isn't it? Something White.'

'That's right.'

'I believe he's a Ministry Official.'

'That's right as well.' said Hermione. 'How do you know him?'

There was a long pause. Prattle raised the index finger which was wrapped around her wrist, and began to stroke her bulbous, green-blue vein with absent precision.

'A friend of a friend,' she said, finally.

Hermione felt the excitement mounting in the pit of her stomach. Something told her this was going to be a major breakthrough.

'Which friend?' she asked.

'I won't tell you.'

Hermione's jaw dropped, and she stared.

'I beg your pardon?'

'I said, I won't tell you.'

'But- but why not?' spluttered Hermione.

Miss Prattle smiled. 'I have my reasons,' she said.

Hermione felt her temper rising quickly.

'Oh, and let me guess,' she snapped, sarcastically. 'You're not going to tell me those, either?'

Miss Prattle's smile broadened. 'Well,' she said, 'You certainly are catching on quick.'

The anger rose even quicker in Hermione now, and she asked, coldly, 'Do you believe that what you're doing is right?'

'I'm sure I don't know what you mean.'

'I'm sure you do!' Hermione snapped. 'You've guessed who we are, by now, haven't you? Well, then you can just about _begin _to guess how much we've given- how much we've _sacrificed_ for people- ordinary people, people like you. You owe us so much, and all you can do is sit there and tell me you won't give me vital information?'

'You're nobody's nanny,' said Prattle, abruptly.

'You think we're not entitled to information?'

'I don't think your entitled to _anything.'_

Hermione stared at her. She couldn't believe her ears. 'So,' she said, finally. 'I suppose you would have been happy if we'd just_ let _Voldemort murder the whole world, would you?'

'I didn't say that. I just said that power's gone to your head, and now you think _you_ own the whole world.'

'It's not like that. We're helping the common people. We're helping _you_.'

'I never asked to be helped.'

'But-'

Miss Prattle laughed, suddenly, a shrill, bitter laugh. 'You're all about the bigger picture, aren't you?' she asked, ironically. 'You're saving the whole world, but you don't mind kidnapping an old woman and keeping her locked up. What do I care for all the people who might die? They're not me, are they? I'm much more concerned about myself.'

Hermione said, automatically, 'You don't mean that.'

'Oh, but I do! And surprisingly, so do most people. They just don't admit it- neither do you.'

'I'm not selfish,' said Hermione, through gritted teeth. 'I'm willing to sacrifice. Not like you. Don't you care about the lives you could save if you helped us?'

'I'm afraid,' said Miss Prattle, quietly. 'That my reasons are much more important to me than those lives.'

* * *

When Hermione went downstairs, she found the others seated at the dining table, nursing cups of tea and talking in low, excited voices. Mrs. Weasley looked up as she heard her footsteps, and her face broke into an excited smile.

'A letter from Harry and Ron!' she said, happily. 'Come down and read, Hermione. They're fine, and they think they might be home soon.'

Hermione's face brightened, and she rushed down the stairs. Remus was holding the parchment in his hand and poring over it with a concentrating expression. As soon as he was done, he handed it to Molly, who cleared her throat.

'_Dear Everyone_,' she read, slowly. '_We're writing a combined letter to you all, because we don't have much time. We've been camping out in the forests since we left Charlie's place at Bucharest. We're following the Death Eaters. We know where they're camping, but we want to find out what they're doing before we round them up. I don't want to enclose any of that stuff in the letter, or where we are exactly, but we're safe, so it's okay._

_And, Mom- _this was evidently written by Ron, because Molly's eyed misted up as she recognized his familiar scrawl- _Charlie's coming back to England for a while. He should be there in a couple of weeks. He doesn't want to miss out on anything. Write back, but be careful what you say.  
_

_Love you_

_Harry and Ron._

There was a brief silence around the table as Molly Weasley set aside the letter, and then, Remus asked, quietly, 'Is there enough room in the Burrow for Charlie?'

'Of course there is,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'Half of the boys are camping out here at Grimmauld Place, anyway. Thank god he's coming home. I've missed him.' Her face looked a little worried, though, and Hermione knew she preferred that he was away from the danger.

'It's a good thing that they're following the Death Eaters,' said Sirius, after a pause. 'We need more information.'

'Do you really think the Death Eaters are mixed up with the Ministry?' asked Mrs. Weasley.

'Sure of it,' said Sirius, shortly. 'Or at least, Roran White was.'

'Where do you suppose he is?' asked Hermione, tentatively. 'Do you think he's-?'

'Dead?' finished Sirius. 'Could be. Or maybe he's run away. He does look like he's directly involved in this, what with that Apparition Portal and all.'

At these words, Hermione felt the nervous twitch at the back of her mind. She pushed it away, and focused on more present problems.

'Write back?' she asked, glancing at the letter which Molly had kept on the table. 'How do we-?'

'The same bird,' said Remus, pointing. Hermione turned, and for the first time noticed a shiny black eagle perched elegantly on the back of one of the chairs. It had tawny eyes, and bore a patient expression. 'We thought we'd let it rest the night, and then send our letters tomorrow. Would you like to write one, Hermione?'

She nodded. She had transferred her gaze to a small piece of paper lying on the dining table.

'Oh, that's yours,' said Tonks, pushing it towards her. 'I mean, it's that piece of paper with Amanda Houston's apparition portal. Why don't you-'

Hermione gently pulled the piece of paper towards her, and as her eyes fell on it, she realized what had been bothering her.

'This handwriting,' she said, slowly. 'I recognize it.'

Sirius and Remus snapped their heads up and stared at her. 'What?'

'This,' she held up the paper, and pointed to the message. 'I know this handwriting from somewhere.'

Immediately, Sirius was on his feet. He leaned over the back of her chair. 'How?'

'I don't know,' she said, biting her lip. 'I can't remember! It's just so- so familiar!'

She pressed the tips of her index fingers into her temples, and closed her eyes. A moment later, she felt large, warm hands drop to her shoulders and gently massage them. They moved against her collar bones, the rough palms feeling gravelly against her sensitive skin. She waited for a moment, while the tension flowed away, and then opened her eyes.

'Thank you,' she said, quietly.

Sirius smiled. 'Don't stress so much,' he said, gently, 'We'll figure it out.'

Hermione smiled back, and then turned around to find everybody seated at the table staring at them.

'What?' she asked, holding her hands up.

Remus shook his head. 'Nothing,' he said, quickly. 'Nothing at all.'

Hermione frowned at him for a moment, and then glanced down at her watch. It was already half past five. With a slight thump in her stomach, she realized that she would beginning work tomorrow. She glanced up, and found Sirius looking down understandingly at her.

'Want to go home?' he asked.

She nodded. 'Yes, please.' Turning around, she added, 'Remus- I'll give you my letter to Harry tomorrow. I really have to go back now.'

Remus nodded, understandingly. 'Of course.' he said. 'Just mail it to me. I'll make sure it's sent.'

'Best of luck for tomorrow, dear,' said Mrs. Weasley, leaning over and kissing Hermione's cheek. 'Tell us how it went.'

'And come over in the evening,' added Tonks. 'We might have more work to do.'

Hermione nodded and smiled. 'Of course I will.' she said. She turned and held out her hand. 'Sirius?'

His eyes lingered on her face for a moment, and then he wrapped his large hand around hers and they left together.

* * *

**AN: I'm so, SO sorry. I have no business saying that, even, actually, after not updating for a YEAR! I've just been away from home, and all that, but it's no excuse really. The truth is, I think I was just being lazy and sticking to one shots because they were much less difficult.**

**Yes, I know, you hate me, but please, PLEASE try and forgive me. I'm going to do my very utmost-est best to update once every two days now, so that this story goes on quicker. **

**Promise!**

**And thanks to everyone who reviewed. I love you very, VERY much. **

=D


	21. Caving In

**CHAPTER 21**

Sirius leaned against the cool raining of Hermione's balcony, and tilted his head forward. The lights of the city below him sparkled optimistically, like little stars against a murky blue background. The road, a ribbon of bright, moving lights, wound its way sluggishly to his left and curved out of his sphere of sight. The air was cool and a touch breezy. He thought it might rain in a few days.

He inhaled languidly from his cigarette, and then craned his neck and peered into the apartment. Hermione had vanished into the bathroom and was taking one of her signature long, hot showers. The first time he had bathed there, he had yelped out in pain as the water struck down on him at the highest possible heat level. Now, he had taken to checking the setting first.

He smiled softly to himself and extinguished his cigarette against the small ceramic ashtray on the floor. There was something remarkably comfortable about this apartment: it felt more home than Grimmauld Place ever had. Although, if he were to be honest with himself, it wasn't just the apartment. It was more of what it symbolized: him, and Hermione, and their constant fight against anything that got in his way.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise as this thought flickered across his mind, but soon recognized the truth of it. That was essentially what they were doing, wasn't it? They were fighting against the Ministry, against their forced marriage, against the army, and sometime along this entire fight, they had become closer than he ever could have imagined. Sometimes, he thought that the way he felt about her had nothing to do with the slight picking up of his heart when she smiled, or the way his skin became hot when she touched him. It had much more with the fact that he was comfortable around her: that he liked sitting with his arm wrapped around her huge head of hair, that he liked sitting in the morning and having a cup of coffee for her, that he liked eating with her, and feeding her wine straight from the bottle. It was much more than just the attraction, he realized.

It was more because Hermione was his best friend.

As he thought this, Sirius suddenly became aware of a warm, happy feeling that was slowly soaring in his stomach. He realized how fucking _lucky_ he was. He cared for her deeply, he had known that, but with this last revelation came another: he _loved_ her. It was a slow, hot feeling, something that had crept into him with the time they had spent together, the things they had gone through. It was something secret, almost like a talisman, giving him strength. Because with it came a sure, strong certainty: that Hermione and he were meant to be together, and that that was never going to change.

It was a strange feeling. Never before had Sirius felt so damn sure about something. Never before had he cared so much about someone. He allowed a small smile to cross over his face, and then cupped his chin in his hand, his eyes raking the horizon, and his mind still full of these clear, simple thoughts.

'Thinking much?' asked Hermione. He turned. She was standing behind him with a slightly amused smile on her face. He had grown accustomed to her smiles, and was quick to recognize the slight upward tilt of one corner of her lip, the way her eyes crinkled up with laugh lines. She was dressed in a cream colored robe that was tightened firmly at the waist, and her long, wet hair was pinned back in a chignon: one of her favorite methods to ensure it didn't dry into a mess. He took a step towards her and inhaled deeply. She had obviously just slathered on some of her favorite moisturizer, because he could smell peaches and vanilla. He could feel the heat from her long shower radiating off her body.

'I do, sometimes,' he said, modestly. She laughed, and wrapped her hands around his arm, leaning gently against him.

'I haven't seen you this thoughtful in a while. Is something wrong?'

He shook his head, took hold of her hand.

'No. Nothing's wrong. What were you doing?'

She shrugged. 'Laying out my clothes and binders for tomorrow. It's going to be an early morning.'

'You better get to bed early.'

His voice, when he said it, was tight and a little strained, and Hermione shot him a look. She said, 'Have you made dinner?'

'It's on the table. Come on inside, we can eat.'

He led her inside by the hand, and as he entered the room, the heat from her body seemed even more palpable. It rushed off her like steam from the shower, and touched his skin in a sensitive, feverish way. He took a deep breath, and closed the balcony door behind them, knowing it would only intensify the feeling.

It did.

'Sirius?'

He turned to face her. Her voice was so cautious, almost inquiring, and her eyes were strangely hopeful.

And then he understood.

In a sharp movement, he yanked her closer by her hand, and wrapped both his arms around her back, kneading them into the sensitive skin of her shoulder blades. She strained her neck up and their lips met with a sort of hot urgency that he hadn't felt in a long time. He pulled her closer, and let his tongue trace the contours of her lips, learning by touch the parts of her that he had already learned by sight. She whimpered very softly- a low, broken noise that pierced through him- and opened her mouth. He was all over her then, pushing, pulling with his tongue, tugging at her willingness until she whimpered even louder, and he realized that she had turned to putty in his hands and that he was practically holding her up.

He picked her up with a little growl, and strode over to the bed, without breaking lip contact. When he put her down on it, she grabbed at his shirt collar and pulled him over her, transferring her lips to the corner of his mouth and then lower, to his jaw. He groaned as she reversed their positions, pushed him down onto his back and authoritatively swung a leg over his hip. With quick, dynamic movements, she moved her mouth to his chin, sucking and biting until he growled, and whispered, 'Don't stop. Don't stop that for one moment.'

'I won't.' she murmured, and dipped lower, disposing of his shirt buttons with a vicious pull and then wrenching it off his shoulders. Sirius threw his head back as her mouth descended on his shoulders, left soft marks over his skin and then trailed down his chest. His memory flashed back to that time on her couch, when her tongue had wrapped itself around his nipple in a similar way, and groaned as she moved lower. His hands came to the knot of her robe girdle, and undid with a swift, decisive movement. The terry cloth fell away, and the next moment his rough fingers were moving over her collar bones, gently touching her breasts and stroking her nipples. Hermione gasped and threw her head back with pleasure as he leaned up and took one of them in his mouth, flicking his tongue over it with gentle, irregular strokes. His hot breath fanned across her breast and she felt the heat inside her body build as she suddenly noticed his rock hard erection. She wiggled her body a little lower, so that she was straddlind it properly, and both of them gasped as red-hot sensations sparkled within them.

'God,' Sirius whispered, his teeth scraping incessantly at her nipple. 'God, you're amazing.'

'You're not so bad yourself,' Hermione whispered. His hands had trailed down her stomach now, had found the waistband of her cotton panties and was playing the hem. One of them dipped lower, and gently stroked her through the soft material.

'You're so wet,' he whispered, as his fingers moved with an irregular rhythm. He could tell that the tension was driving her mad. She had arched her back and ground her legs even closer to him. Deciding he had had enough of being below, he flipped her onto the bed and lowered his mouth to her neck, his hands dipping down to her thighs and his fingers wreaking havoc on the sensitive skin there. She bucked under him, her hips rising for better contact, and she groaned.

'Sirius...'

His fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, and drew them down her thighs slowly, tortuously. She wriggled in protest as his mouth left her neck and he sat up in bed, transferring his full attention to the task of undressing her. His palms glided roughly against the flat backs of her thighs as he pulled the panties off. He let the material bunch at her knees for a moment or so, slid his hands back up and bending down, kissed the base of her stomach. Then, he was pulling them past her calves, lifting her feet one by one to get the panties off, and kissing the soles of both as he dropped them.

'Sirius...'

'Yes, darling?'

'Don't waste time.'

His face eased into a broad smile at the authoritative tone of her voice, but he complied as she leaned forward, entirely naked and unbuttoned his jeans. He found himself admiring the gentle curve of her back, the clear indentation of her collar bones, the way her breasts were small and set somewhat wide apart. Her stomach was flat, but she had traces of love handles at her hips. He watched the muscles in her thighs flex as she leaned forward, and the next minute her hands were dragging at his jeans, pulling them away. He helped her get them off and then eased her back onto the bed, lying low and letting her feel how hard he was. His black boxers were silky, and he could tell that the sensation of the material on her skin excited Hermione.

He looked down at her face, and saw that she was gazing evenly back at him.

'I think it's high time, don't you?' she asked, with a little smile. Her fingers groped at his boxers, and he silently groaned as he felt them, small and supple, pull them over his legs. He kicked them aside and then lowered himself onto her once more.

'Are you ready?' he whispered.

'More than I'll ever be.'

The first thrust was slow, experimental. He felt her widen, felt the slight tremor that rocketed through her body as he pushed into her. She adjusted her legs and wrapped them around his back, linking her ankles and pulling him closer.

'You're wonderful, baby,' he whispered.

She said, 'Then show me.'

And that was all it took. His pace became frenzied, feverish. Each thrust brought him closer to her and he felt as though he was strangely disconnected from his body, the pleasure taking him somewhere high above. She had her arms wrapped around him, and was biting deeply into his shoulder. Somehow, the pain only spurred him on. His hands came to her hips, holding them down as he took her higher and higher.

The startling thing was the familiarity of it. He felt like he had been here before. He felt like he could remember Harry's birthday night if only he tried a little harder. He felt surreal. His hand traced a pattern over her hip bone and then dipped lower until he felt her wetness. A single finger flicked experimentally over her clit.

Hermione gasped. 'Sirius!'

'That's it, baby,' he urged, drawing little circles around her nub now. She had moaned and arched into him, and he knew the motion gave her more pleasure than his thrusts. 'That's it. Relax.'

'Oh!'

She bucked her hips into him so violently he felt himself plunge into her till the hilt. He groaned, and fastened his ministrations.

'Hermione- baby- I'm so close...'

'Oh, god!'

Faster and faster he moved now, his hips and his finger maintaining a frenzied rhythm that was driving them both mad. A thin sheen of sweat covered Hermione's body, he could see damp strands of hair clinging to her brow. There was something exciting about the heat, in the way their slick bodies moved against each other, the way his hard stomach pressed into her soft one. Her hands, which had been over his shoulders crawled up into his hair, and she grabbed a handful and pulled.

'Sirius...'

'Come for me, baby.'

'I-'

'I'm so close,' he whispered. 'I'm almost there.'

She bucked ferociously against him, and he felt her body tighten like a vice. Her neck arched back and she snapped her eyes shut, gasping as her orgasm hit her. Her feet, which were linked over his back, tensed, and he could feel her toes curling. Two seconds later his own climax hit him, and he bit down hard on her neck as he came. Both their bodies tightened against each other for a moment, and he held the position even when it was over.

They lay linked together as their breathing began to slow down. Hermione's fingers, which had been digging into the flesh of Sirius's shoulder relaxed and she flopped back down on the bed. He smiled and rolled off her.

'How are you feeling?' he asked.

She smiled, her face glowing with pleasure, and touched the tip of his chin with her index finger. 'Being chivalrous?'

'Genuinely curious.'

'I'm feeling wonderful.'

'I thought so,' said Sirius smugly, and wrapped his arms around her. There was something ridiculously comforting about holding her close.

'What changed?' asked Hermione.

He thought about it for a moment, and then replied, 'Thinking about it. We've been so busy _doing _stuff these last few weeks we haven't really had time to think, have we?'

She pursed her lips. '_I've _had plenty.' she said.

Sirius laughed. 'You would. I got my first opportunity when I was standing outside today. You know, I'm pretty sure that I'm in love with you.'

Hermione smiled broadly, and gently pressed her palms against the forearms that were wrapped around her torso.

'I'm glad you thought about then,' she said, mischeviously, her eyes sparkling. 'It's high time you realized it, in any case.'

Then, seeing the anxious expression on his face, she burst out laughing. 'Of course I love you, you idiot. I've known that since the day we kissed on your couch. I figured it would take you a while to realize it yourself, so-'

'You little witch,' said Sirius, raising his eyebrow. He bent down, and kissed the tip of her nose. His mouth lingered over her lips, and he whispered, 'You do, don't you?'

'Love you? Of course I do.'

'I'm glad to hear that,' murmured Sirius. He kissed her, and then said, 'You're not your usual self today.'

'I'm not?'

'I would have expected you to be full of a million doubts. A few weeks is a short time to say you love someone, you know.'

'Oh, I've thought about it,' said Hermione, happily. 'And I've decided I don't care.'

Sirius blinked. 'You don't?'

'No, I don't. Love isn't a constant Sirius. It takes some people years to see it, and it takes other days.'

'So it basically took us days?'

'Of course not,' she admonished, with a slight frown. 'It took us years, didn't it? I've known you since I was thirteen!' she leaned forward, and kissed his cheek affectionately. 'We've been through a lot together, Sirius, but we've always _been _there for each other. And I'm pretty sure it's going to stay that way.'

Sirius bent down and kissed her soundly, moving his lips against hers in ways that made her melt gently in his arms. He broke the kiss, and surveyed her with darkened eyes.

'You are,' he said, 'The most remarkable witch I have ever met.' The intensity of his gaze lessened, and a soft smile crossed his face.

'Ready for round two?'

* * *

**Author's Note: Have to confess, this chapter wasn't really planned. I thought I would just slip it in when I felt the time was right, and I had had enough of waiting.**

**Also, this may be very unprofessional of me, but I'm very, very drunk right now.**

**I've tried to make it not just sex, but also a sort of closeness and intimacy between the two. Something to emphasize the fact that they're also very comfortable with each other.**

**Review and tell me how you liked it?**


	22. The First Day

**CHAPTER 22**

The receptionist at the Office of the Wizengamot looked up and smiled at Hermione, recognizing her instantly. She pushed aside a pile of papers she was scribbling on, and said, 'Welcome back, Mrs. Black.'

Hermione noted the change in her surname.

'Good morning,' she said, a little nervously. 'Mr. Kaploffe asked me to report at 10 O' Clock?'

'Have a seat,' said the receptionist, gesturing. 'Mr. Kaploffe will be here in a moment.'

Hermione sat down, and crossed her legs, her fingers nervously twitching over the binder on her lap. She had woken early and dressed carefully in the morning, in dark trousers and a freshly-pressed white linen shirt. She had pulled her hair up into a chignon, and a delicate onion pink silk scarf was wrapped around her neck. She had arranged a few of her papers in a binder, and added some of her certificates from school, just in case Kaploffe wanted to see them. Just as she had finished putting everything in order, Sirius had stumbled into the room naked.

'You woke up even earlier today,' he said, accusingly. Sitting down at the table before her and helping himself to a cup of coffee, he asked, 'Nervous?'

She nodded. 'Very.'

'Relax,' he said, with an encouraging smile. 'You'll be wonderful. They're lucky to have you. You will remember to be careful, won't you?'

His expression grew so concerned that she had smiled just to lighten the mood.

'Of course I will, Sirius. I won't do anything stupid, don't worry. Are you going to Grimmauld Place today?'

He nodded. 'I want to have a chat with Remus. There might be some new developments. Do you want me to pick you up, after work?'

She shook her head. 'I'll come straight there. Hang on- can you give this to Remus to mail to Harry and Ron?'

She handed him the letter she had written for them. Sirius's eyes dropped for a moment to the parchment, and then he nodded and took it. 'Of course I will.' he said. He glanced at the wall clock, and added, 'You'd better be leaving, hadn't you? Get home safe, sweetheart.'

He leaned forward and kissed her, a slow deep kiss that settled comfortably in Hermione's stomach. When they broke apart, she pressed her lips against his cheek, and said, 'See you in the evening.'

Now, sitting in the office and waiting for her new boss, the memory of that kiss was a sort of talisman to her, something to keep her from entirely breaking down with nervousness. She felt a flash of pride as she thought of it. Her fingers, which had been twitching nervously over the binder, relaxed.

On the third finger of her left hand was the cheap metal ring that she simply hadn't gotten around to taking off.

A door clicked, and she looked up to see Dragomir Kaploffe walking towards her. He was dressed in dark robes today that highlighted his porch-like brows, and a smile. He strode towards her and held out a hand.

'Welcome back,' he said, as she took it gingerly. 'Come on in, and I'll show you your office, Hermione. Then we'll have a little talk about your actual functions in this department.'

Hermione noted the use of her first name, but hid her surprise as he led her down a corridor that was studded with shining brown doors. She hadn't imagined that the Ministry was so informal in terms of addressing employees. Kaploffe stopped in front of a door that bore a plaque that said, _Hermione Black._

Once again, she tried to hide her amazement. Although she surprised that she shouldn't be so surprised that her surname had been appropriately changed on the records. She had, after all registered her marriage at the Ministry.

'This is your office,' said Kaploffe, opening the door. It was small, but warmly furnished with cream colored walls and camel carpeting. A large oaken desk stood at the end of the room with a couple of cream-upholstered chairs, and a smaller cupboard sat beside it. There was a single picture on the walls: a small canvas on which a couple of lilies in a terracotta vase were painted.

'Come in inside,' said Kaploffe. He headed in, and sat down comfortably on one of the chairs facing the desk. Feeling a little conscious, Hermione settled down behind the desk and rested her palms against the surface, feeling the smoothness of the polish.

Kaploffe beamed. 'Comfortable?' he asked.

She nodded with a little smile.

'Excellent, then. What I wanted to talk to you about, Hermione, were some of your duties in this office.'

She nodded. 'Is it- is it to do with legislation?'

'That is what you wanted to do, isn't it? I've decided to try an experimental position with you, Hermione. Not many people your age get this kind of job.'

Hermione felt her throat going dry. 'What are you talking about exactly?'

'Well,' said Kaploffe, with a little smile, 'I've decided to give you the post of Deputy-Assistant Legislator.'

Hermione stared. 'What? But- but that's just two ranks under the Chief Legislator!'

'That's right,' said Kaploffe, nodding. He paused, and then said, 'Hermione, I wouldn't be giving you this job if I didn't think you had adequate potential to serve your best. But I do. I think you'll be a blessing to this department. You're exactly what we'll need. This post requires you to work pretty much directly under me, so I intend to help you out as much as I can. I don't think you're going to need much of that, though.'

Hermione didn't reply. She was still stunned.

_Deputy- Assistant Legislator?_

'I've decided to start things a little easy,' said Kaploffe, gently. He leaned over and opened one of her desk drawers. Inside was a thick black binder. He pulled it out.

'Inside this is a review of the last ten year's cases, in which an accused person has managed to get off purely because of circumstantial loopholes in the law,' he said, pointing to it. He flipped it open, and Hermione saw that the first review was dated about a decade previously. 'What I want you to do is go over them, and then compile a report of what changes you think can be made within the legal framework surrounding these cases. Reports like that are discussed at our monthly meetings. The next one's in a couple of weeks, and you'll have to present your report then. It'll take time, of course, and effort, but I think you're perfect for the job. Besides, speaking in front of the meeting will be an excellent opportunity for the rest of our Legislation board to get to know you.'

'Alright,' said Hermione, weakly.

Kaploffe's expression grew more serious.

'You understand, don't you, that the only reason I'm giving you this binder is because I know this post is extremely high-profile, and you'll need to take it easy in the beginning? After we evaluate your report, chances are you'll be given the responsibility of researching cases and finding these loopholes. You'll probably have to travel a lot.'

'That's not a problem,' Hermione said, earnestly. 'I love travelling.'

Kaploffe surveyed her silently for a moment, and then his face broke into a wide smile that made his eyes crinkle up.

'I think you'll do a wonderful job here, Hermione,' he said. He got up an added, 'I'll be in my office. If you have any problems, don't hesitate to come straight there.'

He paused with one hand on the doorknob, and turned and said, 'And by the way, congratulations on your marriage.'

And then he was gone.

* * *

Sirius went back to bed after Hermione left, and it was past one by the time he woke up. Hermione had drawn the curtains open before leaving, and a bright ray of sunshine was streaming directly onto his face. He felt hot and uncomfortable. He was still covered with a thin patina of sweat from last night, so after cursing a couple of times he headed to the shower and adjusted the setting to normal. The just-right-warm water felt good on his tense shoulders, and the dull ache in his thighs. He let it run through his hair and shampooed half-heartedly, before stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist.

He had changed into a pair of trousers and a striped shirt, and was heating up instant noodles in a saucepan when an owl knocked impatiently on the window. The letter was from Remus.

_'Coming over? Nothing much up, but Tonks thinks we should hold a conference. We also have to reply to Harry and Ron's letter.'_

Sirius scrawled back a quick reply and wolfed down his noodles. He still felt hungry after eating them, but reminded himself that Molly was probably at Grimmauld Place and would be cooking up something for lunch. Shrugging on a jacket, and pocketing both his and Hermione's letters, he apparated precisely onto the front step and knocked impatiently.

Tonks opened the door. She was dressed in a yellow jumpsuit, and her hair was spiky and black today. She flashed Sirius a smile.

'Come on in,' she said, 'Remus is waiting in the kitchen. You look tired.'

She added the last remark casually, but Sirius threw her a sharp look, wondering if it was in reference to any hickey that might be visible on him. He conducted a quick scan and decided that he was just hyper-ventilating. His jacket was zipped to the throat.

'Tossed and turned for a bit,' he said, indifferently.

He followed Tonks into the kitchen. It was uncomfortably hot. Predictably, Molly was presiding over the stove, and a pot that smelled like beef stew was belching curling sweeps of steam. Remus and Ginny were seated at the table, talking quietly.

'Hello, Sirius,' said Molly, smiling at him over the pepper jar. She shook a generous quantity into the stew, and then said, 'Would you like a cup of tea? Or the stew will be ready in a few minutes.'

'I think I'll wait, thanks,' said Sirius, sitting down at the table. Remus flashed him a smile.

'That was quick.'

'I was hungry.'

'How's Hermione?' asked Ginny. Her eyes trailed to Sirius's tightly zipped jacket.

Sirius shrugged nonchalantly. 'Fine, as if this morning. Nervous about work. She's coming here as soon as she's done, so I figured I'd hang around here all day.'

'Well, that's good,' said Remus. 'Ginny and I were just trying to figure out the mystery that is Roran White.'

Sirius snorted. 'Any revelations?'

Remus and Ginny exchanged glances. 'Well,' said Ginny, 'We've narrowed it down to three. Option A-'

'He's dead,' offered Sirius.

'Bingo. It's quite possible that someone in on the scam heard that he'd been blabbing. Option B- he's been kidnapped.'

'Also likely,' Sirius conceded. 'Except I think the chances that they- the term "they" being used very loosely, of course- would kidnap him and not kill him are somewhat low.'

'Except you're forgetting that he could be very useful to them,' said Remus, raising a finger. 'He did work at the Apparition Office, after all. Strange, accidental splinches would be right up his street.'

Sirius winced. 'I forgot. Of course.'

'Option C,' said Ginny, 'Is that he's gone into hiding. Maybe he got scared. Maybe he heard that someone was coming after him. Ergo, he tried to get out as soon as possible and simply ran- the way Hagrid did, back when Umbridge was presiding over Hogwarts.'

'Ergo?'

'It's slang.'

'From which century?'

'It- just leave it, Sirius!' Ginny said, impatiently. 'The point is, either way, we have to find out what happened to him. He's the only link we have left with this case.'

'What about Kingsley's idea,' asked Sirius, 'about a direct attack?'

Remus frowned. 'I don't think we're ready for that, just yet. We simply aren't strong enough, Sirius. I say, we wait for Charlie to come back. He's always been good at recruitment.'

'When's he expected?' asked Sirius.

It was Mrs. Weasley who answered. 'A few days, maybe. And Remus, if you're worried about recruitment, I think you should talk to Fred and George as well. You know the kind of circles they move about in- all sorts of young, radical people, just trying to get into trouble. They might be able to help you.'

'Thanks, Molly,' said Remus, gently. He could see the worry behind her expression. 'But I don't think we need to bother about that too much unless all this hits the fan, you know.'

He took her hand and squeezed it. Sirius, who was glancing directly at him, raised an eyebrow.

They both knew it already had.

* * *

Hermione groaned, as a swarm of pins and needles inched its way up her calf. She had been sitting in the same position for the last three hours, and she hadn't noticed that her leg was turning numb. She switched her sides and dropped down her hands, trying to massage the flesh. Slowly, the sharp pain subsided.

Her eyes fell back on the binder on her desk. She had been leafing madly through it and was almost half way through. She had a pad open in front of her, and was jotting down notes every now and then. Later, she knew, she could use those notes to help categorize the reviews.

But right now, she needed a bite to eat.

She got up and carefully shut the binder, making sure to leave a small silk ribbon, that she assumed were standardized Ministry bookmarks, in between its pages. She closed her pad, replaced her plumy quill, and stepped outside. The receptionist's desk was empty. Turning away, she headed down the corridor and back towards the Atrium.

Despite last night, despite the fact that she could still feel the tingle of Sirius's touch on her skin, her mind was wholly occupied with wondering what had happened to Roran White. She remembered what Sirius had told him about the man- that his brother had been killed, that he had sung like a bird- and now, he was intractably linked with the girl who had been to Carla's apartment the night she was killed.

Except who was that girl?

She took the elevator to the cafeteria, and pushed her way absently through the crowd, her mind still on the question. Her eyes were focused straight ahead, but she still didn't notice when she collided head first with someone. Something clattered to the ground and she felt a wave of pain in her shoulder.

'I'm so sorry!' she said, scrambling to save her balance. Her attackee was a janitor, dressed in a dark green uniform. He was burly and wore a pressed cap over indistinct hair. He glanced at her, and his gaze rested on her face for a second before bending to pick up the mop that had fallen from his hand.

'No problem, ma'am.'

'Are you sure you aren't hurt? I knocked into you pretty hard.'

He shook his head, and offered her a brief, flashing smile. 'Takes a lot more than that to knock me over, ma'am. You haven't done no harm.'

Hermione smiled, but before she could say anything else he had pushed past her and was striding quickly down the corridor. She frowned for a moment, and then shrugged, walking on towards the cafe.

She got herself a sandwich and sat alone at one of the tables, munching it thoughtfully. After she was done, she crumpled the wrapper and tossed it into a dustbin. When she got back to the reception of the Office of the Wizengamot, she saw that the blonde receptionist was once more firmly entrenched behind her desk.

'Excuse me,' Hermione said, 'Has Mr. Kaploffe asked for me while I was away? I had gone to lunch.'

The girl looked up, and shook her head.

'He hasn't, Mrs. Black,' she said. 'Mr. Kaploffe is in a private meeting.'

Hermione nodded, almost a little disappointed, and then headed back to her desk.

* * *

The day passed quickly behind her desk, and when Hermione glanced at her desk clock, she was surprised to see that it was already half past six. She had worked her way through a large part of the binder, and the pad of notes was almost full. Stretching and feeling her muscles snap with the satisfaction that came after a day of hard work, she snapped the binder shut and slipped it into her desk drawer. She put the pad back in her handbag and slipped her shoes, which she had kicked off, back onto her stocking-ed feet. Getting up, she she headed to the reception.

The receptionist smiled at her.

'Evening, Mrs. Black. Are you done for the day?'

'I was wondering if I could have a word with Mr. Kaploffe before I left,' Hermione said.

The receptionist pursed her lips. 'I'm not sure if he's entirely free,' she confessed. 'He did-'

She broke off as the door to his office opened, and a girl in a long trench coat and beret stalked out. 'Oh! There- Jenny's gone! I'm sure you can go in now.'

Hermione nodded gratefully, and knocked cautiously on the door. An impatient voice said, 'Come in!'

She opened the door and peeked in. Kaploffe was seated behind his desk, his hair looking strangely untidy, as though he had been raking his hands through it. Hermione suddenly wondered whether the girl who walked out had been his girlfriend or wife. When he saw her, some of the tension on his face relaxed.

'Hermione!' he said, breaking into a sort of half-hearted smile. 'Done for the day, are you?'

She nodded. 'Yes, I'm headed home. I just wanted to tell you that I've been progressing on the binder.'

He looked interested. 'Have you read the entire thing?'

She shook her head. 'I'm working my way through it. I should be done in a couple of days, and then I can get along with my research. I know that's not entirely necessary, but I thought that if I could find more cases to match the ones you gave me, it would give me suggestions some more credibility.'

Kaploffe nodded. 'That sounds wonderful, my dear,' he said, earnestly. 'I'll have a memo on your desk tomorrow morning about the next department meeting.'

'Thank you, Mr. Kaploffe,' she said, and he nodded his goodbye.

* * *

**Author's Note: Yes, I know, this chapter was kind of dull. I had to slip some things in, though, and I wasn't sure how else to. **

**Thanks to everyone for the reviews. It's cheering. =D**

**Next chapter coming soon!**


	23. Ginny's Secret

**CHAPTER 23**

As Hermione apparated onto the front step of Grimmauld Place, she was conscious of a soft misty drizzle that sprayed on her cheeks. The cool water felt soothing on her skin, and she simply stood there for a moment, enjoying the feeling. Despite having a very productive day- or maybe because of it- she felt tension coil in knots across her stomach. There had been an underlying anxiousness in her movements all day, and it was only now, thinking of Sirius, Remus, Ginny and the others waiting for her inside, did she feel some of it dissipate. It was an oddly comforting feeling.

Smiling to herself, she knocked firmly on the door. Ginny opened it, looking disheveled and anxious. When she caught sight of Hermione, her face broke into a wide smile.

'You're back!' she said, leaning forward and enveloping her in a warm hug. 'How was it? Tell me all about the office! Was your boss awful?'

'No, he wasn't,' Hermione said, with a laugh. 'Relax, Gin, you look absolutely ready to explode. I'll come in and tell you all about it. How was your day?'

A strange expression crossed Ginny's face.

'Oh, you know,' she said, a little evasively. 'So and so. Everyone's waiting for you in the kitchen, by the way. Sirius has been jumping up and down in his seat for ages wondering where you were. They're dying to hear how it went.'

Hermione grimaced, as Ginny took her arm and began to lead her into the kitchen.

'Mum'll make you some tea,' said Ginny, who seemed to be following her own train of thought. 'You're probably cold, aren't you? Your jacket's wet. Here- give it to me. Hermione?'

'You look tired, Gin.'

'I am. After you're done in the kitchen, I want to have a chat with you.'

Hermione frowned. 'We can talk right now, you know.'

Ginny shook her head. 'This could take some time. Go face the thunder first. Besides-' she said, her face breaking into a quick smile, 'Sirius will kill me if I keep you another moment.'

Hermione shook her head with a little laugh, and they walked into the kitchen with their arms linked. Sirius, Remus, Tonks and Moody were clustered around the table. Molly Weasley was sitting beside Sirius, and his arm was draped across the back of her chair. It struck Hermione that this was the first time in a while that she had seen Molly looking so relaxed and happy. She was normally busy, wearing a constantly harried expression. Hermione tried to quash the guilt that was building in her stomach at having not noticed that before.

As Ginny closed the door behind them, everyone looked up. Sirius bounded off his chair and immediately pulled her into a tight hug. Hermione smiled into the shoulder of his shirt as she hugged him back, conscious of how comforting the simple motion was. She ignored Remus's sharp gaze, and Ginny's slightly knowing smile.

'How was it?' Sirius murmured in her ear.

Her smile widened. 'It was brilliant,' she whispered back, before pulling back and glancing at the table. 'Hey, Molly, Remus. Have you guys been here all day?'

'We have,' said Tonks, gesturing wildly. 'Sirius got here about lunch, and Alastor only a few minutes back.' She waited until Hermione and Sirius, fingers linked, sat down at the table, and then said, 'Well? How was it?'

'Pretty good,' said Hermione, trying to turn down the wattage of her smile. 'My boss is quite nice, by the way.' She directed this last comment towards Ginny who looked pleased.

'Well, I'm very pleased dear,' said Molly. Hermione felt a rush of affection at the quiet pride in her voice. 'Aren't you cold? You look a little wet. Let me make you a cup of tea and you can tell us all about it.'

'You'll do nothing of the sort,' said Hermione, firmly. 'Just relax, Mrs. Weasley. I'll get the tea myself.'

She sprang up and picked up a saucepan, filling it with water. 'Anyway,' she said, 'I actually had a great time. I got the post of- you know, Deputy Assistant Legislator?'

She said the last part with self-conscious modesty, but everyone else's reactions were worth it. Remus's eyes widened, Moody looked shocked, and a slow, deep smile crossed Sirius's face.

'Deputy Assistant?' he echoed. 'Are you serious? Hermione, that's great!'

'It's more than great,' said Remus, gravely. 'It's brilliant. I don't think anyone's gotten that position right out of school before.'

'Wait,' said Ginny, looking puzzled. 'I don't get it. What's this post?'

'It means Hermione works right under the Chief Legislator,' Remus explained. 'It's a very senior position. Like I said, nobody this young has ever gotten it before.' An expression of concern flashed across his face. 'Are you sure you can do it, Hermione?'

'Of course she can,' Sirius said, cuttingly. 'Probably a lot better than many forty-year-olds I know.'

Remus frowned. 'I'm just being careful, Sirius,' he admonished. 'But Hermione, I really am terribly proud. It's wonderful.'

'We're all very proud, dear,' said Molly, getting up and giving her a tight hug. Hermione returned it, feeling a fierce surge of affection for everyone seated at the room. Even Moody looked surprised.

'So, Deputy Assistant, huh?' he said gruffly, as Hermione returned to the table with her tea.

She nodded. 'That's right.'

'So you're working under Dragomir Kaploffe?'

Hermione looked up at him, surprised. 'Yes- do you know him?'

Moody shrugged. 'Used to be an Auror, but then a spell went wrong and he never joined the department again. Nobody was very surprised when he shifted to the Wizengamot, and even less so when he became Chief Legislator. He's a brilliant man.'

'Wait a minute,' said Hermione, with a frown. 'What do you mean a spell went wrong? What happened?'

Moody shrugged. 'No one knows, really,' he said, 'I don't even know which assignment it was on. Could have been any of them- he was a busy man. Very talented with the wand work. He used to put a lot emphasis on practice being as important as theory.'

_I know,_ Hermione thought, wryly. _A bit too well, in fact._

'So did he get hurt?'

'Some say he did. I can't make out anything wrong with him though. When people asked him why he was quitting, he simply said he was tired of spells flying around and him not being able to do anything to stop them. Type of cryptic nonsense he used to spout all the time. I suppose he just began to feel the danger of the job. Sitting behind a pile of papers is a lot safer.'

Hermione frowned, firstly because that description did not seem to fit what she knew of Kaploffe, and secondly because she could sense a veiled insult behind Moody's last bit.

'Are you still in touch with him?' she asked.

Moody shook his head. 'Never was very close,' he said, somewhat cheerfully. 'I've heard he's a brilliant man, though. You're lucky to be under his tutelage. He thinks a lot of talent, and goes out of his way to nurture it. If he's picked you for such a high post, he obviously thinks your worth it.'

'I am lucky,' Hermione said, thoughtfully. 'I really am.'

* * *

'Well,' said Hermione, crossing her arms tight in front of her chest and looking sternly at Ginny, 'What did you want to talk to me about?'

Ginny held a finger to her lips, and closed her bedroom door very tightly. She cast a quick Silencing charm on it, and then turned back to Hermione, jamming her wand into her coat pocket.

'Gin? Can you please tell me what's wrong? You're beginning to worry me.'

Ginny bit her lip. 'Herms- can I borrow some money from you?'

Hermione blinked. 'What?'

'I'm really sorry. I know this sounds strange, but I really need three thousand galleons and I can't ask Mum. I don't start Apprenticing until next year, and it'll be too late then.'

Hermione frowned. 'Hang on a minute. That's a lot of money. What do you mean you can't tell your mother?' She took a step forward, and encircled Ginny's forearms with her fingers.

'I just can't,' Ginny said, evasively. 'It's not something she'll understand. I don't want her to know.'

Hermione felt a deep, unsettling sensation coiling in her stomach.

'Ginny- you're not- you're not on drugs or anything are you?' she asked, quietly.

Ginny looked up, shocked. 'What! No! Of course I'm not! Well-' she amended, quickly, 'It's not that I haven't experimented, but all that's behind me. I'm not in the habit!'

'Well, thank god for that,' Hermione said, relieved. 'I just- because you were being so secretive, I wasn't sure what to- Ginny, of course I'll give you the money- you know I will, but I have to know what you need it for.'

Something in Ginny seemed to dissipate. Her shoulders slumped, and a tremor of weakness passed through. Instinctively, Hermione took a step forward and pulled her into a tight hug.

'You can tell me,' she said, encouragingly. 'You know you can.'

Ginny said, quietly, 'I need an abortion.'

Hermione started, and jolted back. Her eyes were wide. She stared at Ginny for a moment, the latter turned red under her gaze.

'What?' said Hermione.

'You heard me- I need an abortion.'

'B-but Gin-'

'But what?' Ginny asked, sadly.

'Is it Harry's?' Hermione asked.

Ginny looked shocked. 'Who else's could it be?' she asked, scornfully. 'Of course it's Harry's. I didn't realize till about a week back.'

'But- if it's his, why do you want an abortion?' Hermione asked, frowning. 'Ginny, does Harry know?'

Ginny shook her head. 'He doesn't. I haven't told him and I don't plan to.'

'Ginny, you can't-'

'Yes, I can!' Ginny said, breaking away and crossing her arms stubbornly. 'Hermione, you don't understand. Harry's going to be thrilled when he hears about this child. He's going to want to get married and live happily ever after.'

'Well, what's wrong with that?' asked Hermione, puzzled. 'Isn't it what you've always wanted?'

'Well, yes- eventually,' said Ginny, 'But not now. I'm just seventeen, Hermione! I don't want a baby. I don't want to get married. I'm not- I'm not my _mother_, to get married right out of school!'

'So you're aborting your child?' Hermione asked, shocked.

Ginny frowned. 'Well, what else can I do? I can't handle the responsibility of a child right now.'

'Harry might be able to.'

'Harry is currently somewhere in Romania fighting Death Eaters!' Ginny spat. 'So, apart from the whole social stigma thing, this baby also has brilliant timing!'

'That's not fair,' Hermione said, quietly.

'_Nothing_ about this is fair. I didn't ask to become a mother at seventeen. And I love Harry, but I don't want to be married! I don't want to become my mother, doing nothing but having children and handling an unruly bunch of-' her voice began more and more spiteful with each word, and began to disintegrate into sobs. Hermione hugged her tightly, wiping her tears every now and then and waiting for them to subside.

'Look,' she said, softly. 'I know your going through a lot, and I promise, if this is what you want to do, I'll lend you the money. But not like this, Ginny. I can understand if you don't want to tell your mother, but you have to tell Harry. You can't abort this baby without telling him. He has the right to know.'

'Hermione,' Ginny said, quietly. 'Do you really think I haven't thought about how unfair this is to him? It's not just about him wanting to _keep_ the baby. Imagine what this would do to him, now. He's got enough on his platter already. Knowing that there's a _baby_ to worry about as well is just going to hurt him even more. It would be even _more_ unfair for me to dump it on him.'

'That's not true,' Hermione said, firmly. 'It will be difficult, but Harry can handle it. He would want to know.'

'It's not always about what he wants,' Ginny murmured. A tear trickled down his cheek. 'It's about what's right for him as well, isn't it?'

'Thats not up to you to decide,' said Hermione. She pulled Ginny closer, tightening her arms. 'Sweety, this isn't just about you anymore. It's about Harry as well. You can't leave him out of the loop.'

Ginny was silent for a moment. Hermione sighed, knowing what turmoil she was going through. She knew as well that hearing about this baby was not what Harry needed now. But she also knew that getting rid of it without telling him wasn't the right thing to do.

Finally, Ginny sniffled. 'I'll have to wait for his next letter,' she said, quietly. 'I won't be able to tell him until then. I have no clue where to send an owl.'

'You can wait,' Hermione said, encouragingly. She hesitated for a moment, and then asked, 'How far along are you?'

'Hardly a month,' said Ginny, softly. 'I think- I think the baby was conceived the night of his birthday.'

_Now, wasn't that quite the night for sex_, Hermione thought, wryly.

Ginny continued, 'It's very early, it hardly shows. But I missed my period, and got a little freaked out, so I took the test.'

'Well, then you have time,' Hermione said, forcing a weak smile. 'You aren't going to show for ages. Look, Gin, we'll wait for Harry's next letter, and then you can write and tell him. Explain to him exactly what you're going through. If you decide after all that that you want to abort the baby, I'll understand. But Ginny- can you promise me something till then?'

'You know I will,' Ginny said, softly.

'I want you to be careful about the child. Don't- don't take any chances. Eat right, and absolutely NO drinking. If you decide that you want this baby after all, you're going to want it to be in perfect health.'

'I don't think there's a big chance of that, but I promise,' Ginny said, quietly. 'I'll be careful. Hermione?'

'Yes, sweety?'

'You won't tell anyone will you?'

'Ginny- you know I won't.'

'I meant not even Sirius,' Ginny said, looking up at her through tear-filmed eyes.

Hermione blinked. 'What?'

'Please don't tell Sirius. I know you've become very close to him these last few weeks, but I'm not ready for anyone to know. Not until I tell Harry.'

Hermione swallowed.

'Alright,' she said, 'I promise I won't tell Sirius.'

* * *

She took a long, hot shower when they got back that night, setting the water to its hottest and simply standing under the relaxing flow. She felt some of the tension from her day ebb away. Outside, she could hear Sirius clattering around, getting dinner ready. He hadn't asked her what she and Ginny had spoken about, but she had seen a curious expression on his face when they returned to the kitchen. She knew that he was aware that something was up, and was secretly relieved he understood not to ask, although she very much doubted that his considerate nature would last. He was, after all, a sinfully curious person.

She let her thoughts drift to Sirius again, thinking of their night together, and the evening at Grimmauld Place. Never before had she been so certain about something, she realized. There was a strange sort of comfort that she shared with Sirius that didn't detract at all from the romance of their situation. She didn't need flowers and chocolates for him to prove that he cared immensely for her. There were other things: smaller things, like the pattern they had developed together. Things like him making dinner, bringing her tea, always understanding when she was too tired to talk. Things like the pride that showed on his face when she told him about her new job, and the protective way in which he insisted that there was nothing too big for her to handle. She liked that he never stopped her from living her life the way she wanted to, only offered her a hand whenever she found herself in a difficult situation. It was a freedom that she was never willing to give up, and as she realized that, she began to understand why Ginny was finding her situation so tough to deal with.

She shampooed her hair, inhaling the strong smell of vanilla, but soon her skin began to wrinkle and she regretfully turned off the faucet, wrapping herself in a long towel. She dried off and slipped into her pajamas, before heading outside. Her little kitchen smelt wonderful; Sirius, who had decked himself up in a red checkered apron, was roasting bread and chopping tomatoes, and she walked in just as he sprinkled a liberal dose of olive oil into the pan.

'Hey,' he said, looking up and smiling as she entered the room. 'Finally done with your shower? Your skin's turned red.'

'It was worth it,' Hermione said, with a contented sigh. She perched herself onto the edge of the counter, and looked with interest into the pan. 'What's cooking?'

He shrugged. 'Just trying something new.'

'Really? That looks a lot like bruschetta to me.'

'Well,' he said, spreading his hands so that the bottle of olive oil near the stove wobbled precariously. 'I don't really know the entire recipe, so I'm making up bits. Smell good?'

'Wonderful,' said Hermione, sniffing hard. She held out her hands and he came and hugged her, apron and all. She sank into the warmness of it, and smiled into his shoulder. 'That feels even better than a shower,' she murmured. 'Nice apron, by the way.'

'Thank you, it's Molly's,' he grinned. 'You look tired. Would you like some wine?'

'You stay by the stove, I'll get some.'

She hopped off the counter and headed to her cabinet, pulling out a bottle of Chino Noir. She poured it into two glasses and brought it to the kitchen.

'Here you go. It's good stuff too, so don't just throw it back.'

Sirius took a sip. 'Fancy,' he commented.

'You bet it is. It's my favorite.'

He headed back to the stove and prodded the bread experimentally with a spatula. 'So,' he said, absently. 'Now that we're alone, do you want to tell me how your first day at work really went?'

Hermione tried to hide a smile.

'I wasn't lying when I said I loved it, you know.'

'Oh, I know that,' said Sirius, flipping the bed. 'But something is wrong, isn't it? You looked very- well, _edgy_ when we were at Grimmauld Place today.'

Hermione bit her lip. She thought back to Ginny's little secret, but reminded herself that it wasn't for her to tell. Instead, she told him about something else that was bothering her.

'It's not something I can put my finger on, really,' she said, with a little frown, 'But I was feeling really nervous at work today. I don't know why- I mean, I _know_ it's stupid, but it's true. I think it's probably because of- well, because of everything that's going on- and _knowing_ that, and still going to work at the Ministry- it's a little nerve wracking, you know.'

'Of course I do,' said Sirius, looking concerned.

'And I know I have to be careful, it's not that. It's also that I feel I have to be on the lookout all the time. I'm always nervous- always wondering if I'll bump into the girl in the picture, or someone who- who I should recognize- something that will help us-'

'Hermione,' said Sirius, abandoning the stove and walking up to her, 'You don't have to worry about that! You're going to the Ministry because you have a _job_ there- not to investigate for the Order. And you're not alone in this, you know. Why don't you- why don't you forget about the case for a bit, and just leave it to us? Go, work at your brand new posting, and make a hit of yourself. All you have to worry about-' he said, poking her gently on the nose with the spatula- 'Is making sure that nothing happens to you.'

Hermione smiled weakly and hugged him.

'Well,' she said, 'That's not going to be so easy, is it?'

* * *

**Author's Note: And that's another chapter. Hope you liked it. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and please leave feedback for this one as well. If there's anything you'd like to say, or you don't agree with, just message me and I promise to reply (as some of you may know).**

**Thankee! =D**


	24. Blueprints and Tibetan Lunches

**CHAPTER 24**

Hermione fell into the pattern of her new job very quickly. It helped that she enjoyed it very much; she had obviously made the right choice when asking for a legislator post. Her first couple of weeks at the office went by slowly, and consisted mostly of her poring over the binder Kaploffe had given her. She went through each case slowly and thoroughly, paying attention to each and every detail. She had soon gone through the entire binder at least three times, and filled up seven pads with hastily scrawled notes that she read over later at night, when she was back home. She called people who had been related with the cases, asking them to clarify instances, give her examples of what they went through during the trial. Some of them were incredibly hostile towards her, but she learnt to sell herself as their friend, pandering to all their little prejudices: she dressed modestly with the women, sexily with the men, alternated between serious talk and superficial chatter, depending on whether she was with an old war veteran, or a new model at Madam Malkin's. She even spent hours at the library at Grimmauld Place, long after everybody had gone to sleep, poring over old books with the lit stub of a tallow candle. By the end of two weeks, she had put together a presentation that filled many pages of paper, and reclined proudly in a shiny red-leather binder.

Her first inter-department meeting was nerve-wracking. Sirius had picked out an outfit for her the night before, and she walked into the conference room in a soft, icy-blue long sleeved shirt, and black trousers that were slightly flared at the hips. She wore a thin, gold chain- a mother-of-pearl pendant, presented to her by Sirius, rested gently between her breasts, and small diamond studs in her ears. The moment she stood up in front of the entire council- most of whom comprised of elderly men in their fifties, who were watching her apprehensively, she felt like she'd forgotten everything she'd prepared. Her nervousness was compounded by the fact that the blonde receptionist, whose name transpired to be Rachel, had taken to gossiping with her, and had confided that there was a lot of opposition to Kaploffe's decision to give her the Deputy-Assistant position. Standing there, in front of all these men, had made it easier to believe this. There was unmistakeable hostility in their faces, hostility that was directed towards her sex, her age and her background. Thinking of this, Hermione suddenly felt a righteous anger against their prejudice: she shouldered her binder, and gave what was later called the best presentation ever to be made in the Department meeting.

Hermione remembered, standing at the podium and breathing heavily when it was done. Every person seated around the long, oval-shaped table wore an expression of stunned disbelief, and she knew suddenly that she had been vindicated. Standing out amongst the sea of faces was Dragomir Kaploffe, seated at the very end of the room. He looked as proud as Sirius had when she told him about her post. In the midst of the crackling silence, he stood up and began clapping.

He took her out for dinner that night, to a little French restaurant near the Ministry. It was a small, quaintly furnished room, with dark wood panelling, gold and white striped pillars, and glimmering silverware. Kaploffe had ordered a filet mignon: Hermione, who was still in her vegetarian phase, had ordered a salad and wine. It was only after the food arrived that Kaploffe began speaking.

'Your presentation was brilliant today,' he said, quietly. 'I think you should know that.'

Hermione flushed, and fidgeted with a piece of salad leaf. 'Thank you,' she said, 'It means a lot to me.' She hesitated, and then added, 'I- uh- I know that there were a lot of people who were- were against the post that you gave me.'

Kaploffe smiled broadly. 'You needn't thank me for that,' he said. 'I wasn't doing you a favor by giving it to you. I thought you'd make a raving success out of it. There's no charity involved in this at all.'

'I know that, but I'd like to thank you standing up to everyone who didn't believe in me,' she said, quietly. 'That couldn't have been easy.'

'Well, I've been adequately compensated for it today,' Kaploffe said, comfortably. 'You did a brilliant job, my dear. It was very well researched indeed.'

He walked her to the nearest apparition portal when she was done, and bid her farewell. When Hermione got home, Sirius was pacing up and down the living room anxiously. His tense face broke into a smile when she opened the door, and he scooped her up into a big hug.

'Where were you? It's past eleven. I was beginning to get worried!'

'Beginning?' asked Hermione, with a raised eyebrow. She smiled, and gave him a quick kiss. 'I'm sorry I forgot to send you an owl, but the presentation went fabulous, and Mr. Kaploffe took me out to dinner.'

Sirius's smile broadened. 'The presentation was fabulous? Really? Tell me all about it.'

'Well,' said Hermione slipping out of her shoes, and dumping her handbag on the table, 'In the beginning they were giving me these really awful looks. It's horrible, but I think there's still sexism in the Ministry.'

'Believable, though,' said Sirius, opening the fridge and taking out a couple of cans of Corona. He uncapped them and handed her one. 'Did you kick their ass?'

'You know, I think I did! They were all completely silent when I was done. Kaploffe was the only one who clapped. He stood up and did it, even though no one else was.'

'It sounds like he's really standing up for you,' Sirius said, approvingly. 'Come on- let's go to the balcony for a smoke and you can tell me everything.'

In the weeks following the presentation, Kaploffe began to break away the seclusion she had been in during her initial fortnight. She sat at more meetings, smaller, but equally significant ones, and gave her opinions. She made decisions as to cases in which witnesses could be subpoenaed, and the ones in which they couldn't. By the end of a month, Hermione was more contented with her job than she'd ever imagined she would be. She felt the thrill of action every morning when she dressed for work, out of the apartment and walking in the crisp, cold air while Sirius finished his morning coffee. She always got to the office a little earlier than her coworkers, relishing in the minty freshness of the rooms in the solitary space of the morning. Rachel brought her coffee, and the two of them chatted for a few minutes about a particular meeting, or official, and then Hermione retired to her office, burying herself once more in paperwork. Around eleven she would go to Kaploffe's office and discuss different cases with him, but she still insisted in having lunch by herself in the cafeteria. There was something oddly comforting about sitting alone amidst all the bustling activity; it was like being on an island.

And she loved each and every moment of it.

* * *

'You know,' said Sirius, tracing a line with his index finger from her jaw to the edge of her collar bone, 'I have a good mind to tie you up right now.'

Hermione raised a coy eyebrow. 'Into bondage now, are we, Mr. Black?' she asked, archly.

'You wish,' he muttered, bending his head and kissing the tip of her nose. This was the time when he was most handsome to Hermione: when they were in bed together, his body warm against hers in the tangle of sheets. He hovered possessively over her, his hair hanging low over his face, and his eyes intense with passion. The early morning light, which filtered in through her thin curtains, threw into sharp relief the harshness of his features: his high cheeks, the ruthless cut of his jaw, his prominent collar bones. He bent down again to kiss her, this time decisively on the lips, and then brought his large hands up to her forearms, gliding his palms across her skin. His fingers tightened momentarily, and he whispered, 'If I tie you up, you won't be able to get out of bed and go charging to office, will you?'

'Mm- I'm tempted already,' Hermione murmured. 'Kiss me again, and there's a chance I might agree to that without the controlling behavior.'

Sirius laughed and did so. Hermione curled her leg up, fixing it snugly around his hip.

'We've just finished,' Sirius admonished.

Her eyes flickered towards the wall clock. 'We have fifteen minutes before I have to get up and get ready,' she said, 'Otherwise, you have to wait till tonight, you know.'

Sirius rolled his eyes. 'The things you make me do, woman.'

'Too much sex?' asked Hermione, anxiously.

'Exactly. It's pure torture.'

And he bent over her again.

Later, as she showered at her obscenely hot temperature, he made coffee and set it out on the table. The sky had turned pale now, a brisk chillness in the air. A tawny owl arrived with their newspaper, and Sirius scanned it anxiously for any deaths of mysterious disappearances that looked suspicious. Finding none, he left it besides Hermione's plate, and moved to get started on the eggs.

Hermione entered the kitchen when she was done, her freshly blow-dried hair settled in complacent waves over the shoulders of a pearl colored quilted jacket, and black trousers. She sat down at the table, and eyed the food approvingly.

'Looks good,' she said, 'Where on Earth did you learn to cook like this?'

There was a slight pause, as she began to tuck in heartily, and then Sirius said, 'Lily.'

Hermione paused, fork midway to her mouth. She glanced up, and saw that Sirius was leaning against the counter, gazing outside the window with a thoughtful expression. She set the fork back down on her plate, and said, 'Harry's mum?'

Sirius nodded. 'It was after she and James got married. There was nothing much to do around the house, so I used to go over to Godric's Hollow, and watch her cook. She made the most wonderful things, that woman. Pies, bakes, cookies, trifles, meringues- there was no end to it.'

His face had turned softly affectionate, and Hermione felt a strange feeling settle in her stomach.

'You don't talk about them much,' she said, quietly.

'I don't want to,' Sirius replied, his voice barely above a whisper. 'There are things I never want to remember, if I can help it.'

Hermione got up, walked over to him, and took his hand between hers. 'Ignoring it won't help you forget, you know.'

Sirius shook his hand away. 'Don't, sweetheart,' he said, looking down at her with a strangely protective smile. 'There are things that you- that you won't understand.'

The expression on his face troubled her, and continued to do so as she wrapped a purple scarf around her neck and left the flat. It was true, she realized, that there were many things about Sirius that she didn't understand- aspects of his life that she never needed to know before, and wanted to share now that she knew how she felt about him. It suddenly seemed odd to her that not once had Sirius spoken about James and Lily. He seemed to harbor a pain associated with them which was much deeper than what Remus felt.

_Maybe that's just natural, _she reasoned. _He was closer to James, after all._

It seemed strange, after everything they'd been through, to think of him as the same Sirius who had grown up with Harry's father, laughed and joked with him, and been with him during times of peril. It was strange to think of Sirius sitting in a kitchen at Godric's Hollow, and watching Lily cook, while a baby Harry, perhaps, screamed in his high chair, and crawled about the counter and put things in his mouth. It was strange to think of him being there the night James and Lily died, trying to persuade Hagrid to let him take Harry.

It was strange to think of him in Azkaban.

There was such a huge part of him, she realized, that was cut off from her, simply because she hadn't been born at that time. She wondered what it would be like if Sirius were with a woman his own age, someone who had known him during all those stages of his life that Hermione now felt utterly cut off from. For the first time, she began to realize the seriousness that was creeping into their relationship, the implications of what she was doing.

He was much older than her. She had already known that, but this morning's revelations seemed to bring it home even harder, and with it, a strange sense of insecurity.

She tried to shake away the feeling as she entered the office, and Rachel gave her a friendly smile. Her blonde hair was piled high on top of her head today, and she wore a pea colored coat, with a smart velvet collar.

'Nice scarf,' she said, as Hermione walked in, stowing her wand in her pocket.

'Thanks. Did you have a good evening?'

Rachel flushed. 'The best. Alan brought me a huge case of sunflowers. I didn't even have a vase to keep them, so I put them in a bucket instead.'

Hermione smiled. Alan was Rachel's boyfriend. Yesterday had been their three month anniversary. 'So you made the pasta, finally?'

Rachel winced. 'I tried,' she admitted, 'But it got burnt and stuck to the pan. I had to scrape it off with a spatula, and then order some from Slice.' She leaned forward, and added, in a confidential whisper, 'Alan doesn't know that, though. He thinks I baked it from scratch.'

'Nice one,' Hermione commented. 'Any mail?'

Rachel bent down to the mail trays and shuffled them around. 'Couple of memos,' she murmured. She handed them to Hermione, and then suddenly her eyes lit up. 'By the way- interested in hearing a little piece of news?'

Hermione smiled. 'Always.'

'Okay. I think there's a girl in the Ministry who's throwing herself at Kaploffe.'

Hermione frowned. 'What?'

'You heard me. In fact, you've seen her. Remember, on your first day here- Kaploffe was in a private meeting, and then this girl strode out?'

Hermione recalled a brief glimpse of a camel colored trench coat, and a striped beret. 'I think so, yes,' she said, cautiously. 'But why do you mention her?'

'Because she's come a couple of times to see Kaploffe, and each time he looks positively horrified after she's left,' Rachel said, with a little wink. 'Yesterday, she came to see him around eight, after you'd left, and they got into a bit of a fight. I tried to listen, but only caught bits. Kaploffe kept saying, "You can't mean that!" and then, finally, "Leave me alone!" It was hideously strange.'

Hermione frowned. 'Who is this girl?'

'Oh, I don't know what department she works for,' Rachel said, carelessly. 'Her name's Jenny.'

Hermione nodded, thoughtfully. 'It would be weird if she _was_ hitting on Kaploffe.'

'Tell me about it! Can you- oh! Hush! Here they come!'

At that moment, the door to Kaploffe's office opened, and Hermione realized that he had been inside the whole time. He looked positively disheleved, his hair raked up and his expression worried. He held the door open, and a girl stepped delicately out of it.

And Hermione's heart stopped beating.

Standing before her was the same girl who she had seen in Roran White's polaroid picture. She recognized the wide brow, narrow gray eyes, mouth that had now been painted a dazzling shade of red. The girl's brass colored hair was twisted back in a chignon, and she was once again wearing the camel colored trench coat, this time with a shirt that had a lacy collar, clinging protectively to her throat. She wore high heels that tapped authoritatively against the carpeted floor. A small name badge glinted on her coat's lapel.

'-all over,' Kaploffe was saying, firmly. 'Don't come down to my office again.'

The girl's pale eyes appraised him thoughtfully, and then slid to Hermione, who's mouth went try.

'Fine,' she said, after a momentary pause. 'But I do hope you'll think about what I said.'

She turned briskly, and left, leaving a smell of jasmine behind.

Hermione reached out and grasped the side of the desk, a wave of breathlessness sweeping over her. She still felt as though those gray eyes- cold and hard- were burning into her. Kaploffe, who looked mildly distressed, turned to Rachel.

'Rachel, if that lady comes back, do not let her into my office. I don't want any more meetings with her. Do you understand?'

Rachel nodded. 'Of course, Mr. Kaploffe,' she said. 'Will there be anything else?'

Kaploffe shook his head. 'No, there will not,' he said. 'Hermione- did you just get in?'

Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak. A thousand alarm bells were ringing inside her head. She wanted to scream out to Kaploffe, try and warn him.

_You're in danger! Don't let that woman near you!_

She suddenly remembered what Moody had said, about Kaploffe being an ex-Auror, and understood. They wanted him, she realized. They wanted Kaploffe to be part of their order- part of their army, on their side. She shivered as the thought crossed her mind, as she finally understood how close the danger had come.

Then, she blinked and headed to her office. She had a letter to write.

* * *

Sirius leaned over the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place, a fan of Exploding Snap cards fixed in his hands. His eyes, however, were on Remus, and his expression was worried.

'What's that?' he asked, inclining a large roll of cardboard with capped ends that was resting on the table. 'Did Kings drop it off?'

Remus nodded and set down his cards. 'Roderick and he have been working on them for a while,' he said, picking up the roll and uncapping one end. He draw out a large sheet of paper, and spread it flat on the table. 'It's a set of blueprints, of what we know of the city. It's made on two levels- the one above ground, and the underground layer.'

'But we don't know much about the city,' Sirius pointed out.

'I know, but he's put in everything we've got. Here's the Ministry- he's drawn in the portal at the Marriage Registrar here, and a sketch of the city based on Hermione and Ginny's description. The portal we know about at the western extreme of the city.'

Sirius nodded, and bit his lip. 'We've got altogether too little to go on,' he said, in a displeased tone. 'I know Kingsley thinks the best route for us is a direct attack, but that's not going to work until we know enough to plan it out.'

'It's not easy finding sources that are willing to talk,' Remus pointed out. 'We can't expect miracles, Sirius. We'll have to wait.'

Sirius raked his hand through his hair in frustration. 'And all the while, they'll be getting stronger!' he said, explosively. 'We're also going to lose our element of surprise, Remus. If they cotton onto us-'

He let the thought hang on the air, his eyes falling once more onto the incomplete blueprint. A sharp tapping at the kitchen window distracted both of them. A dark owl was hovering expectantly outside the window.

'Do you know that one?' Remus asked, a frown forming between his brows.

Sirius shook his head. 'It looks like a Ministry owl.'

He undid the window fasteners, and took the letter from the owl, which promptly flew away. Unrolling it, he looked a little puzzled.

'It's Hermione,' he said, eyes still dropped to the letter.

'Is she alright?'

'She wants to meet me for lunch. Somewhere outside the Ministry. She says she needs to tell me something.'

A sparkle of hope shone in Remus's eyes. 'Do you think she's found out something?'

'I hope not,' Sirius said, bitterly. 'I told her expressly not to go snooping around in the Ministry. We could get into a whirlwind of trouble.'

Remus looked a little disappointed. 'I suppose that's true,' he conceded. 'Besides, it could just be a little love not inviting you for a romantic date, couldn't it?'

Sirius threw him a contemptuous look.

* * *

The restaurant Hermione had mentioned in her letter was a small, Tibetan affair. It consisted of a few tables, crowded into a little square room, and ostentious wall hangings of dubious origin portraying golden dragons and carefully embroidered wheels. Sirius chose a table at the back of the room and ordered a plate of vegetarian starters, along with a beer. He waited for hardly two minutes before the glass doors were pushed open and Hermione rushed into the room.

She looked out of breath and a little overwhelmed. Her quilted jacket was slung over one arm. Her eyes, which were a little wide, fastened on Sirius and she made a beeline for his table.

'There you are,' Sirius said, comfortably. 'I ordered momos. You look like hell, did you-'

'We need to talk,' Hermione cut in, pulling back a chair and sitting down. 'I had to tell you immediately, but I didn't want to call you to the Ministry because I wasn't sure if we'd be private enough there.'

Sirius looked worried. 'Is something up? I told you not to worry too much about-'

'It's the girl!' Hermione interrupted, explosively.

Sirius blinked. 'Which one?'

'The one in the polaroid picture, with Roran White. The one who Miss Prattle saw outside Carla's apartment. She works at the Ministry!'

Sirius's face whitened. 'Did you see here there? What happened?'

'I did. I've seen her before, but I didn't realize it at the time because I didn't get a good enough look at her. She came to Kaploffe's office for a private meeting of some sort. Sirius- her name's Jennifer Duchamps.'

Sirius frowned. 'Jennifer Duchamps- do you know what department she works for?'

'No, I just happened to see her badge. Sirius- do you realize what this means? This thing has spread far more into the Ministry then we realized.'

She broke off then because the waitress materialized at their table with a platter of dim sum. She set it down, re-arranged the cutlery, and left with a quick smile. Hermione glanced at Sirius who picked up immediately.

Sirius nodded, his expression concerned. 'You're right. They're just getting stronger, and we- well, we're not really doing anything. Hermione, I don't know if it's perfectly safe for you to go back.'

She looked predictably outraged. 'How can see you say that? You have some nerve, Sirius Black. Do you realize how useful my being in the Ministry is going to be? I just need to keep my eyes and ears open, and who knows what all I can-'

'Not if you're going to be taking risks, you're not,' Sirius said, firmly. 'You look like you're falling to pieces right now.'

Hermione took a deep breath, and her hand shot up to splay over her neck. 'I'm just a little out of breath,' she admitted. 'It was an unholy shock, seeing that woman there. Kaploffe seemed quite horrified to have her in his office. He told Rachel not to let her in again. Sirius, do you know what I think?'

'Tell me.'

'I think they're trying to recruit Kaploffe. Remember what Moody told us- that he was an ex-Auror? Think how useful he would be to them!'

'Honey, I-'

'And that's not the worst of it! I wish I could warn him, you know. What if he doesn't realize-'

'You'll do nothing of the sort!' Sirius cut in, sternly. 'We can't afford such a breach of trust- you know that. Look, just relax for now. We'll see what we can find out about Jennifer Duchamps. In the meantime, I want you to be as careful as you can. No snooping. No prying. And absolutely _no_ warning Kaploffe.'

Hermione frowned, but he looked so stern that she didn't push the argument. Instead, she picked up a momo and crammed it into her mouth. Sirius watched approvingly as she swallowed.

'Get some food into your system,' he said. She threw him a dirty look. 'Honestly, Herms, you look like hell. Are you going back to work in the afternoon?'

Hermione nodded vigorously. 'I have barely ten minutes more,' she said, glancing at her watch. 'I have a whole bunch of files to go over. Sirius- do you think I should ask Kaploffe, discreetly, about Jennifer?'

Sirius contemplated this, and then shook his head. 'I don't think that's a good idea,' he said, finally. 'You're in a very vulnerable position, you know, working in the Ministry. You have to keep it low profile.'

Hermione sighed, and nodded. 'I get you,' she said, finally. 'I have to leave, now. Thanks for rushing down for lunch. I'll see you in the evening, shall I?'

Sirius smiled, and then waited for her to turn and walk out of the restaurant before mouthing, 'I love you.'

* * *

**Author's Note: He does, he really DOES!**

**And so the plot thickens. Too much? Too little?**

**Give me much feedback. I like it. =D**


	25. Gossip and Death Spells

**CHAPTER 25**

The wind picked up as Sirius left the restaurant, and he turned up his jacket collar against the chill. Jamming his fingers into his pockets, he strode down the street with a brooding expression. The pavement was sparsely populated. Two women is black velvet coats strode ahead of him, talking animatedly to each other, and a stocky blonde man walked slightly behind him to his right. He walked quickly, the repetitive clicking of his shoes against the cement letting his mind fall into a dull monotony.

He was incredibly worried, much more than he had let on to Hermione. The fact that the girl in Roran White's picture was working freely in the Ministry somehow alarmed him, especially when he thought of Hermione mingling with these people every day, working for them, eating with them and talking with them. He thought of how she had looked when she came into the restaurant, the fear obvious on her face, and felt something inside him clench.

Nothing will happen, he told himself, sternly.

_She'll be careful._

The blonde man walking behind him veered off into an alley, and Sirius felt the rush of space envelope him as though it were a physical blanket. He wanted to be alone. His face drew into an even tighter visage of worry as he walked, every now and then biting his lip against the sudden cold. He could see the turn off to Hermione's apartment- their apartment- about a hundred meters ahead, and quickened his step. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to make himself a hot chocolate, and wait for Hermione to get back.

He was crossing a patisserie with a red and white striped facade, when a strange unease crept over him. Sirius frowned, and stopped walking. His intuition had been fine-tuned to near perfection during his stay in Azkaban, and he had learned not to dismiss these strange notions. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and a little sparkle of electricity passed through him. He twisted his head this way and that, looking for anything that was out of the ordinary. The patisserie was shut, its door bolted, and a yellow sign saying CLOSED pinned to the handle. A large black cat sat on a ledge outside of it. The two women who had been walking in front of him had taken the turn, and except for a few stray cars, the street was deserted. On the other side of the road, a row of buildings stood glumly. They were mostly decrepit, their outer paint pelts peeling off to reveal naked brick, crowded together unceremoniously. They were all deserted.

And yet, something seemed to scream out danger.

He turned back to face the road, his mind alert and feverish, and then suddenly from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of something soaring through the air towards him.

Instinct kicked in, and Sirius threw himself to the right, crashing against one of the tables that was standing picturesquely outside the patisserie. His shoulder slammed into its surface, and simultaneously his ankle smashed the wrought iron leg. He grunted as a wave of pain spread through his body, and as he fell he caught sight of a jet of bright green light shooting above him, where his head had been a split second ago, and soaking harmlessly into the glass window.

His head crashed against the pavement, and he rolled under the table, but all Sirius was conscious of was terror, mingled with relief. He got back to his feet, ignoring the pain that was resounding from his ankle, and instead turned to face the crop of glum buildings. He tried to remember the direction the spell had been coming in: holding up a hand to indicate it, his eyes followed the line of his forearm, and his gaze fell on a building that was two stories tall and had been whitewashed half-heartedly. A few windows were scattered about its dusty surface, their panes nothing more than slabs of timber that had been nailed crookedly into place. Sirius scrutinized the building carefully, trying to decide whether the spell had really come from there. At that moment, he saw one of the windows in the upper floor slam shut, and he made up his mind.

He raced across the road recklessly, ignoring the honking of several cars that had to screech to a halt to avoid him. His wand was planted firmly in his right hand, and he limped a little, unsure of whether his ankle had twisted or not. The building that he had focused on had a large front door, with a bolt that had been drawn back. It swung slightly ajar. He pushed it open, and glanced inside. The entire ground floor of the block seemed to be one room, that was unfurnished with scaffolding rising up to the ceiling in places. A large chunk of ceiling at the far corner was removed, and Sirius guessed that there used to be a stairway there. He held his wand at ready, entering quietly and keeping his back the wall. The room seemed to be deserted.

He thought he heard something clatter softly upstairs.

Immediately, Sirius made his way to the hole in the ceiling, and tested the scaffolding with his hands. It seemed sturdy enough, knotted tightly with husky ropes and an occasional pin. He tested his foot against it and felt a wave of dizziness as the pain speared through his injured ankle. Trying to ignore the weakness as much as possible, he fixed his fists around the scaffolding and began to climb.

Each step was agony. Sirius gritted his teeth furiously and climbed, his fists white with the effort of holding on. When he reached the top and heaved himself onto the first floor, he wanted nothing more than to lie there and pant, but instead he pushed himself to his feet and surveyed his surroundings. The upstairs had been cut off to form a slender corridor, where he was standing, facing three doors.

He listened carefully for a minute, but heard no crack to announce someone apparating. It struck him that if this building was being used by the Ministry- or someone else- it might have prevention spells on it, like the cupboard at the Marriage Registrar. He took his wand out, and whispered, 'Alohomora.'

The door clicked open.

Surprised now, as to why the person inside hadn't simply apparated away, Sirius pushed it open gently, and peered in, all his reflexes on fire. The room was small, cheaply furnished with a couch and a table lamp. He glanced around, but it seemed to be deserted. Frowning, he withdrew and his transferred his attention to the second door.

He whispered the spell again, and this time, with the click of the lock, he heard a sharp intake of breath. His nerve endings immediately tingled, and he took a few steps to the side, before pushing the door open with the tips of his fingers.

'Avadka Kedavra!'

The voice that spoke the words was girlish, but Sirius's attention was focused on the jet of green light. He flung himself to the side, and it blasted harmlessly into the wall. Before the occupant of the room could recover, he threw out his wand arm and shouted, 'Stupefy!'

He heard a little shriek, that was cut off abruptly, and then a thud. Gripping his wand even tighter, he peered into the room, and caught sight of a prone form on the floor. It was evidently a girl, though extremely tall, dressed in a neutral trench coat. A fan of bronze hair spilled about her face.

A few feet away from her right hand was her wand.

* * *

Hermione felt the exhaustion sweep over her body as she put aside the last file of the day, and locked her desk. It had been sheer torture, returning to the Ministry and occupying her office. Her nerves had been tingling the whole afternoon, and wherever she went she was perpetually looking over her shoulder. By the end of the evening, when Rachel brought her a cup of coffee, she wasn't really in the mood to chat, but from the way Rachel placed the cup on her desk and then leaned comfortably against it, she knew that she had no choice.

'Thanks,' she said, indicating the coffee and then turning back to her papers meaningfully.

Rachel did not take the hint. 'So,' she said. 'Guess what?'

Hermione sighed and put down her plume. 'I couldn't,' she said, wearily. 'Tell me.'

Rachel's smile broadened, and she flipped around so that she was facing Hermione. Leaning conspiratorially forward, she began.

'So, I was talking to Amelie, from Resources, and she was telling me she knew that girl who came to see Kaploffe- what's her name?- Jennifer.'

Hermione stiffened. 'She knows her?'

'Only _of_ her, if you know what I mean. As in- not _personally_, or anything,' Rachel clarified, sounding shocked by the suggestion that any friend of hers could mingle in social circles that contained Jennifer Duchamps. 'I don't think Jennifer has many friends. Amelie says she mostly keeps to herself. She works at the Marriage Registrar, you know?'

Hermione swallowed and tried hard to keep the shock from showing on her face.

'Yeah. It's that little office somewhere on the fourth floor, or something. You read about that girl in the Ministry who died- Carla something? Well, apparently she and Jennifer were friends, and her death hit her pretty hard- Carla's, I mean.'

'C-Carla worked at the Marriage Registrar too, didn't she?' Hermione asked, weakly.

Rachel nodded indifferently. 'I think so, yeah. Anyway, Amelie says that Jennifer's pretty weird about not talking to people, and stuff. Maybe it's because she's so obsessively in love with Kaploffe,' she added, hopefully. She snapped some gum, and then added, 'Yeah- that would explain it. I've seen it happen before, you know. Girls can get pretty darn crazy about old men, sometimes. And Kaploffe is kind of hot.'

Hermione ignored her wise expression, and instead turned her gaze back to the file on her desk.

'Rachel, I really have to get this finished today. Why don't we sit down for a chat some other time?'

Rachel nodded and hopped away from the desk. 'Whatever you say. Just don't tell anyone what I told you.'

She threw in a confidential wink for good measure, and left the room in a whirlwind of cheap rose scented perfume. Hermione immediately pushed the file away from her, and brought her finger tips to her temples, massaging them for a few minutes and trying to relax. After a while of controlling her breathing, she dropped her hands and decided to push the matter from her mind for a bit.

'Just finish your work,' she told herself, sternly. 'You can go home and worry about this later.'

She pulled the file towards her again, and opened it determinedly.

_Now, if I can get Brenda Johnson to testify, it would mean that-_

_She works at the Marriage Registrar! She must have been there! She probably knows we-_

_NO. FOCUS. Brenda Johnson, second witness, lives at-_

Her eyes widened, and her legislative pursuits came screeching to a halt. Her hands splayed wildly over the file in front of her, and she glanced up at the ceiling as a piece of memory came back to her.

_'You can't leave it unlocked. Lock it right now, and hurry up, we have to go for the Meeting at Timberland's office. Jenny's taking over you for a while.'_

_ 'I- I don't know Mr. Richards, it just-.'_

_'Jenny,' _Hermione breathed, out loud. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, shocked that she could actually remember such snippets from that tumultuous morning. 'It was her! She was the replacement who took over after Carla went with her boss!'

The discovery stunned her physically: she felt winded. The fact that Jenny had been so close, so close to discovering them in the portal sent her hair up on the end, her fingers trembling frighteningly. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, pushing her knuckles into their sockets to try and remember more.

'Mr. Richards,' she murmured, after a pause. 'He was Carla's boss, he was-' She frowned, as she tried to understand where this train of thought was taking her. Was it possible, she wondered, that this Richards had been the cloaked figure who had accompanies Jennifer Duchamps when she went to kill Clara?

It could be.

She opened her eyes slowly, and tried to draw comfort from the familiarity of her office; but despite the soft sunshine and light, cheerful trappings that surrounded her, she couldn't suppress the chill of dread that steeping up her spine.

* * *

**Author's Note: Creepy, much?**

**I'm getting kind of excited about this story now. It's sort of got its claws into me. So I think I can safely say daily updates are on the way.**

**Also, everything is kind of unravelling faster now, because I'm sick of keeping everything a mystery.**

**Plus Sirius is so hot. Yummeh! =D**


	26. Veritaserum and Portals

**CHAPTER 26**

The kitchen at Grimmauld Place was unusually full that evening. Fred and George were down from their apartment, and Mrs. Weasley had bustled around to make them fresh pasta, which they were tucking into enthusiastically. Remus, Kingsley, Moody and Arthur Weasley were also settled around the table. Kingsley's blueprints were spread about at one end, and Moody was poring over them, his normal eye fixed beadily on the plans.

'Seems an awful lot empty,' he said, gruffly. He raised a gnarled finger, and prodded the eastern end of the city. 'Especially about here.'

Kingsley nodded. 'We have practically nothing to go on, except Hermione and Ginny's description,' he admitted. 'I tried to figure out the dimensions, and by my estimate the city spans the area between the Ministry portal- over here- to somewhere touching central or east London. I can't be sure about that though.'

'What we need,' Remus was saying, thoughtfully, 'Is some sort of surveillance system in the city. If we can take a look at what's going on down there, we can fill in huge parts of this blueprint.'

'You mean something like Muggle parking lot cameras,' Arthur interjected, helpfully. All heads at the table turned to him.

'What's that?' asked Moody.

'Little video cameras that they install in parking lots and other deserted places. They supply a twenty four seven feed of what's going on there. They make them really small too- tiny enough to fit into a pocket, sometimes, so that they're not very noticeable.'

'Dad,' Fred said, gently, 'I think something like that might be a little too obvious, don't you? Parking lot cameras?'

There was a brief silence, and then Remus spoke.

'Actually, Fred, I think your father might be onto something,' he said, his expression thoughtful.

Fred blinked. 'How's that?'

'Well, consider it. Nobody at this table except Arthur even knew what a parking lot camera is. There's quite a chance that the wizards down there wouldn't either.'

'But Remus, they'd have spells,' Kingsley protested. 'You can't tell me a city like that wouldn't have some protective charms around it.'

'Yes, but I'm willing to bet it's protected only against magic,' Remus said. 'Most wizards don't bother about Muggle contraptions. If we can somehow get a few of those cameras in there, there's a pretty big chance nobody will notice.'

The atmosphere in the room changed. It was suddenly a lot more hopeful. George said, 'Do you know where we could get hold of a bunch of those cameras?'

Arthur shrugged. 'Sure. Any normal Muggle tech store. An E-Zone would do. Or we could order some off the internet.'

'The bigger problem would be how to install them,' Kingsley said, thoughtfully. 'Arthur, how long do you think it would take to install one of those things properly?'

Arthur looked doubtful. 'I'm not entirely sure. But I think we can work out some spells that will speed up the process. If we can somehow get down there, we can probably get a camera on in about a minute or so.'

'Getting in there undetected isn't going to be so easy, though,' said Remus. 'If we're caught, we'd be in big trouble.'

'Maybe we could start a diversion,' Fred suggested. 'We could use some of our Instant Darkness Powder, or something.'

Kingsley shook his head immediately. 'If we create a diversion, they'd instantly be on guard,' he said, regretfully. 'They'd know we found someway in, and they'd probably double check everything.'

Fred didn't look put back. 'Well, I'm sure George and I could come up with something to go and leave undetected,' he said. 'Harry's taken an Invisibility Cloak, but we'll figure something out.'

'But how many-'

Remus was cut off as they heard the front door bang, and the sound of someone stumbling against the wall. Instantly, all wands were out, and gripped tightly in their hands. Then, they heard a grunt that Remus recognized.

'Sirius!'

He got up and strode to the foyer, stopping to stare when he saw his friend. Sirius was standing somewhat stooped over, his right leg twisted a little, and his breathing come out harshly. He looked pale and a little dusty, as though he had been rolling around the ground. His wand, which was clutched very tightly in his hand, was pointed upwards and he was shaking slightly with magical effort.

'What happened to you?' Remus demanded, reaching out and grabbing his forearm. 'You look like hell!'

'Attacked,' Sirius muttered.

Remus's eyes widened. 'By who? Where? Are you alright?!'

In answer, Sirius muttered a a few spells, and to Remus's horror a levitating body appeared seven feet in the air, and crashed o

nto the ground. The thud it made sounded in the kitchen, and he heard chairs scraping back as the others got to their feet to come and investigate. His eyes were drawn down to the comatose form lying at his feet, and all the air in his lungs was sucked out.

'It's her,' Sirius said, quietly. 'The girl in Roran White's picture.'

Remus gasped. 'Did she- was she-'

He was cut off as the foyer door opened, and the others streamed in. They had been talking in low voices, but a dead silence settled about the room as they caught sight of Sirius, and then their eyes dropped down to the body on the floor.

'What-?' Arthur began.

'That's her, isn't it?' asked Kingsley, his eyes falling fearfully to the prone girl. 'The girl in the picture.'

Sirius nodded.

'Sirius, how did you-?'

'She tried to kill me,' Sirius explained. 'She shot a spell at me from an abandoned building.'

There was a collective gasp.

'Are you alri-'

'Not now, Molly,' Sirius cut in. 'We need to get her somewhere locked up, and then I need someone to mend my ankle. If I look like this when Hermione gets home, she'll freak.'

* * *

Remus levitated Carla's body up to Buckbeak's old room, while Sirius stayed in the kitchen and Arthur gave him a once over with his wand. He jabbed experimentally at Sirius's ankle, and when the latter winced he pronounced, 'It's sprained quite badly. The bone might be cracked too. How did you say this happened?'

'It smashed into a table leg,' Sirius said, through gritted teeth. 'It's not broken, though, because I can walk, although it's hideously painful.'

'Hm,' Arthur prodded it again, and the murmured a quick spell. Instantly, Sirius felt the pain ebb away and he breathed a sigh of relief.

'Better?'

'Definitely. Thanks a bunch.'

'Hang on while I take care of your shoulder,' Arthur said, getting up off his knees and inspecting the offending body part. He was silent for a moment, and then said, 'You were very lucky, you know.'

Sirius grimaced. 'I suppose I have to thank twelve years worth of Azkaban intuition.'

'I mean it, Sirius. Dodging a killing curse isn't a laughing matter. This girl was determined to kill.'

'I know that,' Sirius said, grimly. 'But that's not what worries me the most. This means that they know we're on to them, doesn't it?'

Arthur nodded, looking grave. 'I don't know how, but they do. It puts us in a very vulnerable position. Are you sure it's alright for Hermione to continue working at the Wizengamot?'

Sirius shrugged, and then regretted it when a wave of pain splashed over his shoulder. 'I'd like to see you try and stop her,' he said, as Arthur waved his wand above him and muttered a few words. A sigh escaped him as the pain vanished. 'She's determined on this job.'

'She would be, it's something to be very proud of,' Arthur said, thoughtfully. He stowed his wand in his pocket, and then drew up a chair to sit beside Sirius. 'Hermione's always been a very ambitious person. She knows what she wants, and she works to get it.'

Sirius frowned. 'You make her out to be a very ruthless person.'

'No, merely clear-sighted and determined. And Sirius, this might not sit well with you, but no matter how well you and Hermione are- are getting on together-' he coughed, delicately, 'You have to remember that she's very young. She doesn't have experience, and there's a chance she might not be taking the danger of the situation the way she should be.'

'Arthur,' Sirius said, patiently. 'Hermione's twice as responsible as I am when it comes to this kind of thing. Of course she knows this is dangerous.'

'Sure, she might know in a theoretical sort of way,' Arthur said, seriously. 'But what if it comes down to staying alive of quitting her job? Have you ever thought of how Hermione might react if you put it down to her that way?"

Sirius looked thoughtful. 'She'd say I was overreacting,' he said, finally.

'Yes, because that would be what she wants to believe!' Arthur said, nodding vigorously. 'Everyone has their weak points, Sirius. And Hermione isn't old enough to recognize or fight hers. Do you know that it might come to the scenario I was mentioning, eventually?'

Sirius remained quiet for a moment. 'Hermione would never quit her job,' he said, finally.

'Have you asked her?'

'More like mentioned the possibility. She stamped on it immediately. And I see her point.'

'Sirius,' Arthur said, gently. 'If you love the girl, you're going to have to help her out. Don't forget that you're older than her, and the truth is, you do know better.'

Sirius shook his head. 'I can't,' he said, slowly. 'I don't know better than her. I lost that right when I chose to love her. I love her like an equal, Arthur, like someone who can make their own decisions. I'm not around the instruct her; just help her, if she needs me.'

Arthur leaned back in his chair, looking faintly disapproving. Finally, he said, 'You know you may be making a big mistake?'

Sirius sighed. 'God help us, we all do. But if I want-'

He was cut off abruptly then, when a loud voice sounded from the foyer.

'SIRIUS BLACK, YOU NO GOOD ROTTEN PIECE OF VERMIN! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK OF YOURSELF, ALMOST GETTING KILLED?!'

Both Sirius and Arthur started, and glanced towards the door. Loud footsteps moved towards them.

'IF YOU HAD GOTTEN KILLED, BLACK, I _WOULD_ HAVE KICKED YOUR ASS INTO NEXT MONDAY!'

'Hermione,' Sirius explained, weakly.

Arthur nodded, immediately. 'I'll be upstairs, then,' he said, and disapparated with a loud _crack_.

The elephant-like footsteps culminated in the kitchen door being flung open, and Hermione heaving and panting at the frame. She had her hands on her hips, her jacket askew, and her hair a royal mess. Her eyes with wide with fear and anger. The minute she saw Sirius, she launched herself unmercifully into his arms.

'Oof!' Sirius grunted, as her small body made contact with his. She flung her arms around her neck and tightened her hold, sobbing heavily into his shoulder, and he was silently thankful that Arthur had healed him before this little confrontation. He gently slid his hands across the soft skin of her back, pressing his fingers in.

'Relax, darling,' he whispered, 'I'm fine.'

'Oh, but you're _not! _Kingsley told me, that- that bitch tried to- to kill you!'

'The spell missed me, honey.'

'By _inches,' _Hermione choked. '_Twice!'_

_'_I know, but I'm-'

'And there you were, telling _me_ to be careful,' Hermione sobbed, her fingers clutching desperately at the hair at the nape of his neck. 'And all that time it was- it was _you_ they were going after! Sirius, I-'

'Hermione, you need to calm down,' he turned his voice down a notch, forced himself to be soothing. He waited, but her sobs didn't subside. He hugged her a little tighter, and said, 'Sweety, I'm fine. You really don't have to cry so much. And besides, if the twins find out, you'll never hear the end of this.'

That got to her. She pulled back slightly, and he saw her take deep, shuddering breaths, trying to control herself. He wiped her tears away gently with the pads of his thumbs.

'Better?' he asked, softly.

She swallowed and nodded. 'Yes. I'm sorry for the drama. I was frightened, you know.'

He nodded. 'Of course I do. But really, I'm alright and I think that's enough to be thankful for right now.'

Hermione closed her eyes, and an expression of pain crossed her face. 'Sirius, you don't understand. I've been _so_ frightened, the whole day. I spoke to Rachel in the afternoon, and she told me all about- about that _bitch. _Jennifer Duchamps used to work at the Marriage Registrar.'

Sirius blinked. 'What?'

'I know, that's exactly how I felt. Do you remember the day we got locked in the cupboard?'

Sirius nodded. 'Vividly.'

'Well, when Carla's boss came in, he told her they had to run for a meeting, and that someone else was coming as a replacement.'

'_Jenny_!' Sirius breathed. 'Of course! I remember! Do you- do you think it's the same person?'

Hermione shrugged. 'It makes sense, doesn't it? Rachel's convinced that Jennifer's madly in love with Kaploffe, but I don't think it's that. Sirius, I think he's in real danger.'

Sirius bit his lip. 'Herms, you know you can't talk to him about this, don't you?'

Hermione sighed, and nodded. 'I do. I wish I could just- well, just warn him though.' She lapsed into silence for a moment, and then shook her head as though to banish unwanted thoughts. Looking up, she asked, 'Where did they take Jenny?'

'To Buckbeak's old room,' Sirius said. 'Shall we?'

Hermione nodded, and they linked hands as they walked up the stairs. Remus had shut the door to the room firmly, but Sirius shoved it open and they walked in, locking it behind them. Jennifer's body had been lowered onto the carpeted floor, and Remus, Kingsley, Arthur and Moody were crowded around it. Remus glanced up as they walked in, and gestured silently towards it.

Hermione took a step forward, and craned her neck to catch sight of Jennifer. She repressed a shudder. The girl's shockingly red mouth was pulled back in shock over very white teeth. The skin around her face was stretched tight with a scream, and her eyes, which were paler than they looked in the picture, were widened in shock so that the whites shone. Her arms were frozen in front of her torso, her hands shaped vaguely like claws. She wore the camel colored trench coat she had been wearing in Kaploffe's office. It had fallen open to reveal a soft gray silk tunic, and black stockings.

'Well,' said Remus, spreading his hands. 'What now? Veritaserum?'

Moody nodded grimly. 'That's probably the best idea,' he said, quietly. He drew a vial from somewhere in his robes and uncapped it carefully. Jennifer's mouth was already stretched open, so it was easy to empty three pearly drops down her throat. Remus tilted her head upwards so he was sure she was drunk them, and then calmly enervated her.

Jennifer's pale eyes blinked a few times, and slid in and out of focus. Finally, they snapped open and her gaze flickered absently about the room. Her expression remained perfectly calm.

Sirius glanced at Remus, who leaned forward and said, 'Is your name Jennifer Duchamps?'

The girl licked her lips vaguely. 'Yes,' she said, finally.

'And where do you work?'

'At the Ministry.'

'For which department?'

Another pause, and she said, 'At the Organized Registry.'

Sirius and Remus exchanged glances, and then Sirius asked, 'What do you know about the conspiracy that's being hatched?'

Jennifer's expression changed. Her eyes birthed a dynamic glimmer, and her voice tumbled out feverishly. 'It was him,' she said, 'He started it. He thought it was a brilliant plan. Whoever would look for poison inside an angel? Nobody suspected a thing. It was difficult, the recruitment, but we managed. The break out was easy enough to engineer, because the Dementors no longer guarded Azkaban. The Prophet was Ministry-owned, so they kept everything quiet.'

Hermione inhaled sharply. The words tumbling out of Jennifer's mouth seemed to be confirmation of all the wild theories they had been cooking up over the past month. And yet, there was something intensely terrifying about them being rendered real.

'Then we had a problem,' Jennifer said, and a shadow fell over her face. 'Our recruitment had to be secret, we couldn't be very rigorous. There was a woman, Amanda Houston. And then- Jack White.'

'We know all about Jack White,' Sirius cut in. 'Tell us about the city. The city under the ground.'

A strange expression crossed her face. Hermione could have sworn it was pride.

'Cidade Sagrada,' she murmured.

Sirius blinked. 'I beg your pardon?'

'Cidade Sagrada. Our sacred city. It will be our salvation.'

Sirius and Remus met eyes over her prone form. 'She cannot be serious.'

Remus frowned. 'I think she is.' He glanced at Jennifer, and said, 'Tell us about the cupboard at the Marriage Registrar.'

She blinked. 'It's a portal,' she said, quietly. 'They take us to our city. There's one at the Ministry, and one in Debbie's Salon. They lead us to salvation.'

Hermione looked confused. 'Why does she keep talking about that?' she whispered.

Sirius shrugged. 'Why did you kill Carla Mulroney and her boyfriend?' he demanded.

She frowned. 'Carla let you and Granger into the cupboard. I always knew it was a mistake to let an outsider of the clan work at any of the portals. I told him so. We asked Carla, if someone had been inside, and she told us it was you. We knew then, that we could never let her live.'

Sirius looked furious. 'There was someone with you,' he said, his voice shaking slightly. 'A man or woman in a cloak, who was with you when you killed Carla. Who was that?'

Jennifer opened her mouth.

Then, she shut it again. Sirius reached forward and shook her roughly by the shoulders.

'Answer me!' he snapped. 'Who was with you when you killed Carla and Charles?'

'Cidade,' she whispered. 'Cidade Sag-'

Her mouth snapped shut again.

Sirius let out a roar of impatience and lunged forward. Uttering a frightened squeal, Hermione grabbed hold of his arm.

'Sirius!' she said, furiously, 'What do you think you're doing?'

'I'm going to get some answers! Do you think I-'

He broke off. Hermione whirled around to se Remus staring, mouth open, at Jennifer. The girl was mumbling incoherently, her face flushed and sweaty.

'Cidade,' she murmured. 'Cidade Sagrada. I want to go home.'

Her face became hotter and hotter. Hermione watched, spell-bound, as her cheeks and brow and nose suffused with crimson, and then, as Jennifer gasped and heaved for air, she suddenly understood.

'She's suffocating!' she shrieked. 'She can't breathe!'

Sirius pushed Hermione to one side, and lunged forward. He grabbed hold of Jennifer's shoulders, and shook her violently.

'Answer me, damn it!' he yelled. 'Tell me who it was!'

But Jennifer couldn't answer. The flush in her face had mottled to a violent purple, and her eyes were bulging. Her entire body was heaving and gasping for air. Hermione watched in horror as Jennifer's gaze passed over Remus, and settled directly, disconcertingly, on her.

'Cidade,' she grunted, softly. 'Home...'

She heaved one last time, and then suddenly lay still.

'NO!' Remus shouted, pushing Sirius out of the way and grabbing Jennifer's limp shoulders. 'Shite! No!'

He slammed her body down onto the floor, and bending over, he began to pump her chest vigorously, before lowering his mouth to hers and blowing. 'Come-back!' he grunted. 'God, no!'

He blew into her mouth once more, but when he let go, the wide lips sagged open. Hermione looked at the face: mottles and twisted with horror. The hands had frozen into claws again, and her eyes had rolled upwards. Remus slumped back to the ground, looking defeated.

'She's dead,' he said, dejectedly.

* * *

'It's some sort of spell,' Hermione said, tiredly. She drew a hand across her feverish brow. 'It has to be.'

Sirius and Remus glanced up at her. The three of them were sitting in the kitchen. Hermione had made a trip to the library, and coming back down, had adorned the table with several books, some of them opened at specific pages that were marked and manuscripts that were held in place with paper-weights. She had spent the last half an hour thumbing through them furiously, and muttering to herself. On top of one book was a small piece of parchment on which she had scrawled the word _Sneak_.

'Really?' Sirius asked, sardonically. 'All those books, and that's the best you can come up with?'

Hermione threw him a dirty look.

'Well, what else could it have been?' Remus asked, curiously.

'Well, originally I thought something was really wrong with her- you know, like medically,' Hermione said, 'But it's a bit too convenient for her to choke and die just as she's about to tell us who her cloaked companion was. Now, if we're assuming it's a spell, which I'm pretty sure it is, that puts us in a bit of a problem because none of us in the room cast it on her.'

'So what did you come up with?'

Hermione's eyes dropped to the paper with the word Sneak.

'Do you remember back in my fifth year, when we started the DA?' she asked.

Remus rolled his eyes. 'Vividly.'

'Well, when we got everyone to join, we made them sign their names on a piece of paper which I put a jinx on. So when Marietta Edgecombe tried to rat on us, the spell came into activation and she got the word Sneak written on her face. It also stopped her from actually talking about the club when Umbridge was around.'

'Ingenuous,' said Remus, looking impressed. 'How did you come up with that

'Well, it was a slight modification of the Protean Charm I put on the fake galleons,' Hermione said, modestly. 'It's not too difficult. I'm pretty sure the people in this- this clan, were made to sign some sort of agreement like that.'

'You mean,' said Sirius, leaning forward, 'They knew that if they spoke about anything concerning their- well, their little party, they would die?'

Hermione frowned. 'They probably didn't know, or they'd have been more quiet about it,' she said, 'They were probably made to sign on some piece of paper, or make a pact, and they didn't understand the consequences. Look at it this way- each and every person we know related to the case has wound up dead,' She counted them off on her fingers, 'Jack White, Roran White, Jennifer Duchamps- Amanda Houston's death was a little different, of course. But it seems awfully convenient.'

For the second time, she felt a small niggling unease when she thought of Amanda Houston's death. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was completely ignoring something that was right in front of her.

'Don't forget,' Remus pointed out, 'That we don't know if Roran White is dead. He could be in hiding, for all we know.'

Sirius tapped the table with his index finger. 'She never told us why the cloaked person was,' he said, abruptly.

Remus nodded. 'Looks like he's the one controlling all their actions. He probably programmed this- this modified Protean Charm, so that if any of them tried to name him, they'd die.'

'If we can trace the curse, we have a chance of finding out who he or she is,' Hermione added, thoughtfully. 'But I'd say the chances are pretty slim.'

Remus groaned, and brought his hands to his head. 'Excellent,' he said, 'Just excellent. And where does that leave us?'

'We're forgetting something,' Hermione said, tersely. 'Debbie's salon.'

Sirius blinked. 'Huh? Who the fuck is Debbie?'

Remus, who'd initially looked confused, frowned, and then his eyes widened with comprehension. 'The Portal,' he whispered, 'She said one was at the Organized Registry, and the other was at Debbie's salon.'

Sirius looked puzzled. 'Does that mean there are only two?'

'Unlikely,' Hermione said, bitterly, 'Maybe she only knew of those.'

'But who is Debbie, and where is her salon?' Remus asked, looking bemused. 'I've never heard of this place.'

Hermione snapped her fingers. 'Does anybody have a yellow pages, or something?' she asked.

Remus nodded, and brought one from the dining room cabinet. Hermione spread the papery mass on the table, and thumbed rapidly through it.

'What exactly are you looking for?' Sirius asked.

'Debbie's salon,' Hermione murmured. 'Probably a beauty parlor. Sounds like- you know, Deborah Arkwright.'

'Er- no,' said Remus, 'I don't know Deborah Arkwright.'

Hermione sighed extravagantly. 'Deborah Arkwright,' she explained, patiently, 'Is one of the most celebrated hair dressers in London. She does fancy stuff- film stars, and all.'

Remus frowned. 'And there's a portal in her salon?'

'I don't know- aha!' Hermione crowed, jabbing at one of the names enlisted under D. 'Here it is! The salon is on Knightly Road, Number 45.'

Sirius wrenched a whole lot of books off the table and tossed them away, exposing Kingsley's blueprint. Hermione picked up a pencil, and ran her eyes over the plan.

'This,' she said, making a very small dot, 'Is where the salon is.'

The salon was located at the eastern edge of the city, bang opposite the portal at the Organized Registry. Hermione darkened the dot and labelled it.

'Is what Jennifer said is true, this is the other portal,' she said.

'They're in a straight line from each other,' Sirius said, contemplating the blueprint.

Remus nodded. 'And that's not all. They're at the cardinal points of the city as well. See- this is the centre of London-' he pointed with his finger, 'And if you draw the cross of a compass here, the two portals are exactly at the eastern and western ends.'

He grabbed up a ruler and a compass from the side of the table, and quickly drew in the cross. Hermione leaned over with her pencil, and drew in two more dots, one at the northern and the other at the southern end of the table. She glanced at Remus, who pulled the yellow pages towards him.

_Finally, _Hermione thought, _some progress._

'What's the northern point?' asked Remus, whose eyes were still focused on the yellow pages.

Hermione glanced at the blueprint. The little pencil dot she had made gleamed brightly against the pale paper.

'Number 18, Portress Square,' she said.

Remus flipped over to the addresses section of the pages, and ran his finger down the list.

'Here we are,' he said, 'Portress Square, North London. Here's Number 18.'

Sirius leaned over his shoulder and peered down. 'Do they mention who lives there?' he asked.

Remus shook his head. 'Nobody. It was initially government owned, and now it's been converted into a theatre. See- it's called the Empire Hall.'

Sirius rolled his eyes. 'Do I want to know who came up with that name?'

'A theatre,' Hermione mused. 'I wonder if it's owned privately now. Or it might just be abandoned. How old is that copy?'

Remus checked the date of the yellow pages. 'About five years.'

'There you go. If that theatre doesn't exist, anymore, it would be a decrepit building, wouldn't it? Perfect for a portal. Most of these public arenas are totally ignored when they go out of use.'

Remus snapped his fingers. 'You might just be right,' he said, excitedly. 'What about the southern one?'

Hermione glanced back to the blueprint. 'Apple Street, Number 24.'

Remus flipped a few more pages, his brow furrowed with concentration. 'Number 24,' he muttered. 'It's- it's a library.'

Hermione blinked. '_What_?'

'You heard me. Number 24, Apple Street, is a library.'

Hermione looked outraged. 'They've converted a _library_ into a portal? How awful!'

Sirius chuckled. 'Herms, your violated sense of library-modesty is the least of our worries here. Have you ever been there?'

Hermione shook her heard. 'Never heard of it. Maybe it's abandoned too,' she added, hopefully.

Remus frowned. 'Well, there's only one way to find out,' he said, a little grimly. 'And don't forget, this cardinal points theory is pure guesswork on our part. We'll have to do a lot of research before we can figure this out.'

'If we do,' Sirius said, quietly, 'Those parking lot cameras will come in really handy.'

Hermione stared. 'Excuse me? Did you just say parking lot cameras?'

Sirius nodded. 'Arthur came up with it, really. We were trying to figure out the best way we could organize surveillance of the underground city.'

'And _parking lot cameras_ is the best you could come up with?'

'Well,' said Sirius, shrugging, 'Think about it. That city's probably protected against all sorts of magical spy devices. But what do you think the chances are that they thought to include Muggle cameras? Those things come in really small sizes, too. Fred and George figured that they could come up with some sort of cover that we could use if we were installing them, as well as a spell or two that would quicken the process.'

Hermione stroked her chin, looking thoughtful. 'You know, that actually makes sense,' she admitted. 'Fred and George will have to come up with something damn good, though.'

Sirius smiled. 'Leave it to them.'

* * *

**Author's Note: Okay, so this one was shorter than the rest. Sorry for that. Also, have to tell you I have made up each and every one of the so-called-locations in this chapter. Probably pretty obvious. **

**It's kind of fun writing out gruesome deaths.**

**No, really.**


	27. Powders and Pensives

**CHAPTER 27**

As the balmy days slid into October, Hermione was visited with the strange feeling that time was both passing outrageously slowly, and dizzily fast. Each day in itself seemed to pass in a typical blink of the eye. She was hardly ever at home, spending most of her time at the office, where her work load had picked up. Very often, she found herself working by lamplight till one in the morning, always surprised to look up at her wall clock and see how much time had passed. Somehow, concentrating on her work was a sort of drug to her, numbing the fear she felt every morning she stepped into the Ministry.

Jennifer's attack on Sirius and her subsequent death had suddenly thrown into harsh relief the precarious position that they were in. Hermione had thought of the dangers it posed before, but never with such intense understanding that she now possessed. She had forbidden Sirius to ever come see her at work, or even to step within fifty yards of the Ministry, something he had protested against aggressively.

'You go there everyday!'

'And I haven't got attacked even once,' Hermione fired back. 'You, on the other hand, were accosted the first lunch date we had!'

It had irked him no end, but he decided to follow her advice, if only because she argued so vehemently each time the topic came up. As a result, Hermione went back to eating alone in the cafeteria. The experience was always nerve-wracking. She sat at a table at the corner of the room, eating steadily although the food felt dry and tasteless in her mouth. Her ears felt especially fine-tuned, picking up scraps of conversation she never would have noticed before, always on the lookout for something suspicious. She kept her head bent low, trying to avoid eye-contact with anybody.

Sirius, in the meantime, spent most of his time at Grimmauld Place. He, Remus, Kingsley and Moody had taken to having long brain-storming sessions. Arthur was on the look-out for cameras, although he had said it might take some time to identify the smallest and least conspicuous. Fred and George were constantly locked in the experimenting chamber under their store, only emerging to freshly promise some medium for entering the city undetected. Molly and Arthur had practically moved into Grimmauld Place by now, and the house was always full of activity. Ginny, who had come with them, spent all her time in one of the upstairs rooms, lying down. She had begun to show very slightly now, nothing more than a small bump that Hermione had spread her hands over with wonder. It felt hard, but so full of promise that Hermione loathed the idea of killing the child. A letter from Harry and Ron, who were back on the outskirts of Bucharest, had come a week before, and Ginny had furtively added her own message informing Harry of the pregnancy.

The day before Hallowe'en, Hermione was headed back home to her flat after a long, tiring day at work. She felt spent. Her feet pained in her high-heeled shoes, her thighs itched in her pinstriped pants, and her shoulder hurt from carrying her oversized handbag the whole day. It had been a particularly busy one, since three new cases had been filed for negligence of loopholes. Kaploffe had wanted her to sort them out individually, and then make an impromptu presentation in front of the board. The entire process had taken a ridiculous amount of time and effort, and the weak applause she had recieved when she was done did not compensate in any way.

All she could dream of now was returning to her flat- the home she shared with Sirius. They had fallen into a comfortable routine, enjoying what could be coined as a relationship, but didn't seem as formal. He always kept her plaid pajamas out on the bed, a scrunch for her hair and a glass of wine on the table. It was lovely to go home, slip into something comfortable, and just relax with Sirius after a tension-wracked day at work.

Now, she slid her key into the door of her flat, and thought lovingly on the hot dinner that would be waiting on the stove. She had wrapped a cream colored shawl tightly around her shoulders, but was still shivering slightly as she did so. The Ministry seemed to over-shadow everything these days, including the weather.

She turned the key and stepped inside, before biting her lip and frowning.

The flat wasn't brightly lit, and warm. The smell of dinner was missing. Instead, the lights were off, the air slightly musty, and the flat completely silent. Warily, she slid her feet out of her heels and took her wand out of her bad, holding it tightly between white fingers. She kept the door open, but advanced slowly past the living room. The dining room was empty as well, the table cloth slightly askew.

Hermione fought down the wave of panic that was slowly building in her, and clamped down on the urge to shout out for Sirius. Instead, she edged quietly into the bedroom and even checked the balcony. Both were silent and empty.

She hurried back to the drawing room once more, and began to ridle furiously through the tray she kept on her liquor cabiner, where Sirius sometimes left notes for her. Her fingers skimmed past old messages, bills and reminders, but there was nothing new. Another wave of panic filled her and she fought to breathe, grasping her wand tightly and apparating to Grimmauld Place.

It had begun to rain during her short interlude at the apartment. The sky had darkened dangerously, and thick drops fell from the cloud cover. They blew every which way, and the narrow porch of Grimmauld Place did nothing keep her dry. She fumbled for the shawl that was falling of her shoulders, feeling the rain soak through her hair, freeze her skin. Her fingers and lips had begun to tremble as she grasped the door knob and pushed in vain for a few moments, before getting it open. She stumbled into the foyer and immediately tripped over the troll's leg umbrella stand. It fell over with a crash and Hermione landed hard beside it, falling down on her chin and biting her tongue. She let out a muffled shriek of pain as they sunk into the soft fleshiness, and began to bleed inside her mouth. At the same moment, the curtains hiding Mrs. Black's portrait flew open, and the grotesque woman began to scream viciously at her.

'MUDBLOODS AND VERMIN, FILLING MY HOUSE AND DIRTYING THE PLACE OF MY ANCESTORS-'

The blood was falling freely from her mouth now, and she spat some out as she stumbled to her knees and began groping amongst the fallen umbrellas for her wand. It had clattered to the ground and rolled out of sight. Somewhere, interspersing Mrs. Black's shrieks, she heard footsteps thudding in her direction/

'HOW DARE YOU ENTER ME HOME? GET OUT! GET OUT, ALL OF YOU-'

Hermione's blood-stained fingers closed around her wand, and heaving, she lifted it up and pointed her shaking hand at Mrs. Black's portrait, pushing the curtains back together again. The woman's shrieks were cut off abruptly, but echoed silently around the hall. Hermione took a great, shuddering breath, and then looked up as the door to the kitchen was thrown open and Sirius and Remus tumbled into the room.

'Hermione!'

Immediately, Sirius was at her side, kneeling down beside her and wiping away the blood on her chin with the side of his hand. He drew his other hand threw her hair, stroking her scalp comfortingly, but she could feel the concern and fear in his movements. All this paled, however, in comparison to the relief she felt to see him here, healthy and safe.

Someone dangled a white handkerchief in front of her, and she looked up to see Remus's tender expression.

'Spit out the blood,' Sirius said, gently, 'And then we can see what's wrong.'

He cupped the handkerchief under her chin, and she obligingly spat out the great gobs of blood that were collecting under her tongue. The pain hit her afresh, and she reeled. Her teeth had gone in quite deep, and the combination of tiredness, pain and relief was making her light-headed.

'Better?' Sirius asked, as she spat one last time and then drew in a shuddering breath. She nodded, almost imperceptibly. Remus walked forward and gently pulled her jaw open, inspecting it and then waving his wand. Hermione felt the wound on her tongue heal, and she sighed with relief as Sirius wiped the remnants of spit and blood on her chin.

'Thanks,' she whispered.

'Relax,' Sirius said, soothingly. He wrapped his arms around her, and she let herself melt against his warm body, tucking her head into the crook of his chin. 'You're alright, now. What happened?'

All of a sudden, Hermione felt embarassed. She thought of how she must appear to them- soaked and drenched, having just stumble dinto the house, sprawled amongst umbrellas and a troll's leg with blood on her fingers and chin. She glanced down at the bloody handkerchief in Sirius's hands, and averted her eyes.

He was worried. He probably thought she had had a run-in with a Death Eater or something. And the reality of her predicament was so mild in comparison that she couldn't help but feel ashamed of herself. Suddenly, she felt overwhelmed by the tiredness, the ache in her legs, the dried blood of on her chin, and she burst into great, heaving sobs.

Remus and Sirius exchanged alarmed looks. Hermione had clutched tighter at Sirius's shoulders, her fingers digging into the soft material of his shirt, and her entire body had gone limp. He tightened his arms around her, and mouthed, 'I'll take care of this.'

Remus nodded and slipped discreetly out of the room. Sirius gently slipped his arms about Hermione and picked her up, the way someone might lift a baby, with her bum resting in the crook of his elbows and her chin tucked over his shoulder. He tightened his grip, and whispered, 'Relax, sweeheart. I'm taking you home, and then you can tell me all about it.'

This only served to make her cry harder. Trying not to be alarmed by the way her entire body was wracked with sobs, he pushed the front door open and sucked in his breath as he realized how hard it was raining. The drops fell like pellets, with a violent force. No wonder she was so wet, he mused, realizing afresh that she had dripped water all over her shirt.

He got them to the front step and then apparated carefully, heaving a sigh of relief when he felt them land in her apartment. It was silent and dark, so he flicked on a couple of lights, carefully balancing Hermione on one of his arms as he did so. He put her down on the couch, and then sat down beside her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, and bending to gently kiss her cheek.

Somehow, seeing Hermione so unraveled came as a welcome shock to him. Although he had seen her furious at times, never had she looked so completely lost in front of him. The knowledge that she had her bad days as well, that she wasn't all quirky eyebrows and flippant words was encouraging: it made him feel even closer to her. She was a mess, her hair soaked and disheveled, her mascara was smeared racoon-style around her eyes, and her lip was trembling indecisively. He had never wanted her more.

After a pause, her sobs began to subside, and the room became quiet.

'Better?' he asked, softly.

Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath. 'Y-yes.'

'Do you want me to make you some tea or coffee? You'll feel better if you get something hot inside you.'

Hermione shook her head. 'No,' she whispered, 'Don't leave me.'

So he snuggled even closer, wrapping his arms tightly around her, nuzzling his mouth at the crook of her neck and occasionally kissing it. As he felt her calm down, he asked, gently, 'Do you want to tell me what happened?'

She sighed.

'Sirius, it's so stupid.'

'Tell me darling, you know you can. Is this one of those PMS things?'

She managed a watery smile. 'I just- I had such a horrible day,' she said, petulantly, 'And I came back, and I thought you'd be there, but the flat was empty and _dark_- I got so worried, I didn't know where you were.'

A small whimper choked through, and Sirius kissed the side of her head.

'And then when I got to Grimmauld Place, it was raining and I was cold, and then I tripped over that _stupid _troll's leg, and I bit my tongue, and-'

She broke off again, and snuggled closer.

'I'm sorry I wasn't here, sweetheart,' Sirius said, softly. 'But I am now. Don't worry. I'll take care of everything.'

His words were tender, and exactly what Hermione needed. She felt her knuckles loosen against the folds of his short, the tension ebb away from her body. After a moment, she said, 'I'm alright now.'

Sirius didn't let go. His mouth remained hovering over her neck, and his tongue moved with practiced precision against her skin.

Hermione's eyes lowered, and a small smile tugged at the corner of the mouth.

'Well?' Sirius murmured.

She turned and grasped his jaw, her fingers digging into the skin of his cheeks as she pulled him closer. Their lips met in a ferocious tangle, hot and urgent, and the next thing she knew his fingers were working desperately at her pants, trying to undo the buttons. There was none of the gentle intimacy that had been there the first time they made love: this was something different, something more frantic and _needy._

She undid his fly, and with his mouth still at her neck, her fingers curling into his back through the material of his shirt, he took her. He simply pushed her trousers down to her knees and didn't bother with anything else, pulling her closer, trying to touch her skin through her clothes. His hand moved to her breast, thumbed it through her shirt and her bra, and the boundaries made it all the more exciting for her. She arced under his touch, her body moving faster than it ever had before. The need was like a physical pain inside her, and when she opened her eyes in the middle, her gaze met Sirius's, dark and lusty, and she knew exactly how he felt.

They came heavily together, both of them clutching at each other, and heaving and gasping against their bodies. They remained clasped against each other for a few minutes, breathing softly against sensitive skin, and then Hermione rolled off Sirius, and lay back against the couch. He shifted so that they were spooning, and wrapped his arms around her stomach.

* * *

'What were you doing at Grimmauld Place anyway?' Hermione asked, tilting her head backwards and resting it comfortably against the pillow.

Sirius tucked his arm under her neck and pulled her closer.

'Brainstorming,' he murmured, 'Arthur got hold of a bunch of cameras, you know. We were sitting with Fred and George and going over their part of it.'

Hermione turned on her side so that she was facing him, and propped up her head on her palm. Her face looked concerned.

'What have they come up with so far?'

Sirius looked thoughtful. 'It's a brilliant idea, I have to confess, but it's going to need a lot of working on,' he said, 'Do you remember those sugar quills they designed a few years back?'

Hermione frowned. 'Which ones?'

'Well, they sent you into a sort of fantasy land,' Sirius explained, 'Hallucinations, and stuff.'

Hermione recalled briefly commenting on them. 'Well, yeah,' she said, cautiously, 'But what about them?'

'Well, the twins figured that if they could re-engineer those quills with a slight twist, they could be brilliantly helpful to us. What they were thinking is to get you and Ginny to pool your memories of the city in a Pensive. Then, they can use that to design a hallucination that looks exactly like the city the way you saw it. If we can somehow get all the people in the area immediately around us to go through that hallucination, we can go on installing the cameras and they won't notice anything.'

Hermione looked puzzled. 'Sirius, that plan is absolutely bunkum.'

'Why'd you say that?'

'For starters, I don't think we're going to be able to march in their and hand all the guards a bunch of sugar quills.'

Sirius smiled. 'Perspicacious as ever, I see. They're working on turning the hallucinations into a powder form. You know, like their Peruvian Instant Darkness powder? It's much easier that way. All we'll have to do is toss the stuff into the air, and everyone around us breathes it in.'

'Including us,' Hermione pointed out.

'Oh, they'll figure out an antidote that we can take before hand. It's a lot of work for those two. Kingsley and Remus are helping, but it's still going to take some time. I don't think we're going to be able to put those cameras in till December.'

Hermione frowned. 'A month till we can put them in, and another for surveillance. That means this direct attack plan of Kingsley's is going to take a while.'

Sirius nodded. 'You're right. It makes me uncomfortable, because it seems as though every second we waste is going into their making a bigger army. But there's nothing we can do about it for a while. Want to tell me why else you think this plan is bunkum?'

Hermione looked grim. 'Yes, and this one's a biggie. Ginny and I went down their about two months back. Don't you think the place would have changed a little?'

Sirius blinked. 'What?'

'Well, think about it! They're just growing bigger and bigger, and the city's bound to have changed. If we do throw this hallucination powder stuff in the air, and suddenly a bunch of people find themselves in a different city, they're going to suspect something, aren't they?

Sirius looked alarmed. 'Wow, we really didn't think of that,' he said, worry clouding his eyes. 'You're absolutely right, that's way too big a risk to take. We can't depend on yours and Ginny's memories.'

They lapsed into silence for a while, and then Hermione said, 'You know what- there might be a way.'

* * *

**Author's Note: And there's another one. **

**By the way, if Sirius ever calls ME sweetheart, I will probably melt into this huge puddle right there. No kidding.**

**Why do all the great guys have to be fictitious?**

**Sigh. **

**Oh, and thanks to Sweetly Sarcastic, who was the only one who noticed I switched Jennifer and Carla's names in the last chapter (I'm so sorry! Stupid mistake) and everyone else who reviewed. Keep 'em coming! You know I love you. **


	28. Polyjuice and Boxers

**CHAPTER 28**

Hermione and Sirius banged frantically on the door to Grimmauld Place. The rain had slowed, but was still annoyingly persistent. Neither noticed the damp, however. Hermione was looking incredibly excited, and Sirius had gone distinctly pink the face.

Molly opened the door, her expression somewhere between curiosity and fear. When she saw it was them, it lapsed into annoyance, and she fidgeted with her flowery night dress.

'_You_ two! Do you have any idea what the time is? It's almost one!'

'We're sorry, Mrs. Weasley, but this is really important,' Hermione said, breathlessly.

Molly quirked an eyebrow, taking in Hermione's plaid boxer shots and Sirius's dingy pajamas. 'Is something wrong?'

'No, but we just realized something,' Sirius said, 'Is anybody else up?'

'The others went to bed ages ago.'

'Never mind,' Hermione said, quickly, 'This will only take a few minutes, Mrs. Weasley, _please_ let us in!'

Molly relinquished control over the doorstep, taking a step back and looking curious as the other two dashed in. They raced past her and up the stairs, going straight to the landing that led them to Buckbeak's old room.

'Are you sure it's still here?' Hermione asked.

Sirius nodded. 'I think so. Remus took it off her before he vanished the body, to look for any notes or scraps in the pockets.'

They skidded to a halt in front of the door, and Sirius pushed it open gently. The room was dark, so he flicked on a light and they stepped in. Hermione suppressed a shiver as she looked around.

'Where is it?' she whispered.

Sirius strode across the room, and flung open the dark wood cupboard at the far end. At a heap in the bottom was a camel colored trench coat.

He picked it up daintily, and held it up by propping the collar on the tips of his index fingers. The coat was long, dropping almost to his knees. The material was soft and a little shiny, the moonlight from the window throwing a thin film of silver on it. Hermione bent down to her knees and began to examine the surface.

'This is a long shot,' Sirius warned.

'You never know,' she murmured in reply. 'Besides, it's our only chance.'

'Try near the collar.'

She stood up and scanned the area around the large collar. At one point, she twisted it inside out, pushing with her fingers so that the material stretched out blandly under her gaze.

'I don't think I can- aha!'

She closed her hands around the collar, and withdrew with a single, brass-colored hair.

'You found one?' Sirius asked, disbelievingly. 'Amazing.'

'Well, she did look like the thinning type,' Hermione said, a trifle snidely. Her expression shifted to one of concern. 'Well, what now? Should we wake everyone up, or wait till morning?'

Sirius was silent for a moment. His gaze drifted to the window, and then back to her.

'Actually,' he said, slowly, 'I think we should finish it off tonight.'

Hermione blinked. 'Excuse me?' she asked.

He dropped the trench coat and spread his hands. 'Think about it, Herms. Only one person can go in there. We can't have a whole host of Jennifer's striding into the city suddenly. Might as well get it over with.'

'But,' began Hermione, looking troubled, 'But we're going to need some potion as well.'

Sirius shrugged. 'Not a problem. Moody always keeps some stocked in the cupboard outside the kitchen. It's a piece of cake.'

'It's no such thing and you know it, Sirius Black. Which one of us goes down there?'

'I do,' said Sirius, immediately.

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Why am I not surprised? You're dumb if you think I'm just going to wait here while _you_ risk your life and come back.'

Sirius sighed. 'Herms, come on. You've already had your chance down there. Your little truant with Ginny, remember? It's my turn.'

She looked disbelieving. 'It's about _turns_ now?'

'Sure,' he said, with a wink. 'Now, here's what we're going to do. For starters, you're going to drive me to the Ministry.'

* * *

Forty five minutes later, Hermione was pulling alongside the curb, outside the telephone booth that led to the Ministry. She wore a mutinous expression, and a pair of dark gray pajamas that soared past her ankles, and bagged about her feet. Sirius reclined complacently in the passenger seat. He wore a tee shirt and nothing else, but on the dashboard beside him were a pair of boxer shorts and a trench coat. He held a vial of dark, bubbly potion in one hand, and a single hair in the other.

'I can't believe we're doing this,' Hermione muttered, killing the gas and surveying the street. It was deserted. It had stopped raining, but the wet tar reflected the street lights ominously.

'Cheer up,' Sirius said, bracingly. He uncorked the vial and sniffed it. 'God, this smells awful.'

'Then let me do it. I have practice.'

'No can do, sweetheart,' he said, cheerfully.

'Well, did we have to _steal_ Remus's car?' Hermione asked, fretfully.

'We haven't stolen it. We've just _borrowed_ it. Besides, I need to transform at the last possible minute, and I highly doubt I can do that on the street.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Alright, then,' she said. 'Get on with it.'

Sirius smiled at her clipped tones. He picked up the hair gingerly, and dropped it into the vial. Instantly, the murky potion inside began to hiss and bubble. He watched as its color shifted indecisively, finally settling at a bright emerald green color. The now-translucent potion captured glints of the street light, and threw sparkles of bright green around the walls of the car.

'Well,' Hermione said, sounding a little subdued. 'That's- well, that's bright.'

Sirius nodded. He eyed the potion for another moment, and then flung his head back, downing it in one gulp. A grimace crossed his face, and he sucked in some air.

'Uck,' he muttered, 'That's really disgusting, it-'

He broke off, and his eyes widened. Hermione started with alarm as his body began to shift, becoming smaller, thinner. His dark skin paled, and his crop of hair lightened, grew out and settled shinily against his shoulders. His narrow dark eyes turned gray, his nose shortened and his lips puffed out pinkly. Hermione watched with morbid satisfaction as his large hands shrunk, his fingers thinned, and his nails grew. Within a minute, Jennifer Duchamps sat beside her dressed in a gray tee shirt.

'You have no idea how disconcerting this is,' Hermione remarked.

Sirius spoke in Jennifer's throaty voice.

'Is it, really?'

'You're supposed to be dead.'

Sirius lifted a hand in front of his, flexed the fingers and admired the nails. He fiddled with a chunk of hair, and then twisted around to get a look at it.

Hermione cleared her throat. 'Are you done?' she asked, loudly. 'I was under the impression we were here to bust into the city, not check ourselves out.'

'Sorry, sorry,' said Sirius, lifting his hands, 'It's just strange having breasts, you know?

Hermione leveled a cold look at him.

'Oh, that's right, you do,' Sirius said, quickly, 'Now, where are the clothes?'

Hermione tapped her index finger against the steering wheel as he pulled her boxers on under his tee shirt, and then wrapped the trench coat around his body. It fell down to his knees, hiding the strange attire he wore underneath. When he was done, he fluffed up his new brassy hair once and turned to Hermione.

'How do I look?' he asked.

She contemplated him for a moment. 'I wish we'd bought pantyhose,' she said, wistfully, 'Bare legs really look strange under that coat. Oh, well, at least she's waxed.'

Sirius chuckled, and then leaned over and kissed her cheek. Hermione tried to stifle the revulsion she felt when Jennifer's lips touched her skin.

'I'll be back as soon as I can,' said Sirius, opening the car door.

Hermione frowned. 'Be careful, please. Nothing daring or reckless. You just get a good look and come back, okay?'

'Alright.'

'And stop staring at your own breasts.'

'Damn it.'

He shut the car door behind him, and gave her one last smile before he turned and left. Hermione watched his newly thinned figure striding through the rain, the coppery hair sparkling with little drops of water. Then, he shut himself inside the phone booth and dialed the number to the Ministry.

She felt a residual flash of alarm as the booth began to sink and Jennifer's figure disappeared underground. It was silly to worry, she chided herself. Sirius was fully capable of taking care of himself; he had proved it ample number of times. It was strange to worry so much about another person. There had been times when she had fretted over Harry and Ron, but never in the possessive way fear for Sirius took over her.

Thinking of Harry and Ron just made her more upset, but instead of quashing the thought she pursued it. She rolled down the car window and lit a cigarette, smoking languidly and wondering where they were. Their last letter had come from the outskirts of Bucharest, where they were camping. She wondered what Harry was doing now; whether it was dark there as well, whether it was raining. They were probably rolled up tight in sleeping bags, she mused, Ron waking up several times in the night to make sure the tent was fully zipped. And it was when she thinking of this that she felt the first pang of nostalgia for the long year that she and Harry and Ron had been on the run. She missed her best friends more than she could imagine. It was strange not having them to come home too, strange not to be able to scold Ron for chewing with his mouth full, or explain to Harry that when Ginny said, 'Well, do whatever you think is best,' she actually meant, 'Do exactly what I tell you to, or I will curse your ass to next November.'

Poor Ginny, she thought, a little sadly, now following this train of thought. The girl still hadn't gotten over her morning sickness phase, and as a result she spent most of her time up in her room, reading or staring glumly out of the window. She still hadn't told anyone, and didn't plan to until Harry's reply arrived. Hermione knew that Ginny was fixated on getting an abortion. Although she had been trying to accustom herself to this desicion, it still didn't sit easily on her. She couldn't ever imagine getting one, although to be fair it was less of a maternal instinct, and more a revulsion against what she coined as murder.

And what would happen when Harry's reply arrived, she wondered. She knew Harry would be ridiculously happy to hear about the baby. Although he never admitted it, Hermione knew that Harry cherished a secret dream of a life exactly the way his parents had lived it. She knew he wanted to marry young, buy a small cottage in a small town, have babies, watch them play in a pocket garden and grow old happily. And although she understood why Harry would crave such normalcy after the life he had lived, she could also respect Ginny's desicion to want to take her own time.

After all, Hermione mused, would she be ready to settle down in that way? No, she conceded, but that was also because she wasn't that type of person. She didn't want a peaceful life, but rather thrived off busy activity. And suddenly, she realized how lucky she was that Sirius understood this: that Sirius would never bring up topics of "settling down". She had always thought of their age difference as a possible impediment in their relationship, but for the first time she understood how wonderful it was to have someone who was mature enough to know what she wanted. She smiled to herself, her eyes fastening on the halo of smoke that was forming above her head, and following its trail until it dissolved into the air.

Hermione wasn't sure when exactly she dozed off. Her sleep was restless and disturbed; she wasn't entirely sure whether she was awake of not. Her head lolled back against the car seat, and she was conscious of the entire time of a dull ache at the back of her neck. The half-smoked cigarette fell out of fingers, and out the window, sizzling immediately as it struck a puddle under her rear view mirror. Instinctively, the hand that was holding it curled up warmly against her chin, and she fell in and out of strange dreams that consisted of her walking naked down the aisle of an airplace.

A sharp rap on the glass yanked her back to reality. She blinked, trying to get her focus, and jerked her head upright. The dull pain in her neck instantly transformed into a fiery cramp, and she pressed her fingertips into it as her she glanced around to see what had caused the sound.

Jennifer Duchamps stood outside her car window, her hands jammed in her pockets, and a shadow falling across half her face.

Hermione's first reaction was sheer terror. Her eyes widened with fear, and she fumbled for the wand on her dashboard, her fingers tripping with the cold. It was only when Jennifer's face melted from its impassive mask to a very familiar looking bemused expression that she realized it was Sirius, and hot relief flooded her.

She threw open the passenger door, and he slid inside quickly. Jennifer's hair was damp now, her pale skin looking sickly. Sirius snapped the door shut behind him and leaned back in the seat, heaving a sigh of relief.

'Are you alright?' Hermione asked.

Sirius glanced sideways at her through Jennifer's narrow eyes and nodded. He asked, 'Is there some sort of spell to get rid of this thing?'

Hermione nodded, and flicked her wand at him, concentrating on the words. Slowly, Jennifer's aloof countenance dissolved into Sirius's worried face.

'Better?' asked Sirius, seeing the unconsciously guarded expression on Hermione's face vanish.

She nodded. 'You're alright, aren't you?'

'Fit as a fiddle. Start driving back home. I'll tell you on the way.'

'The flat or Grimmauld Place?' asked Hermione, rolling up her window and starting the engine.

Sirius considered this for a moment. 'Flat,' he said, finally, 'Let's get some sleep and then we'll go around to see the other's in the morning. Are you tired? Do you want me to drive?'

Hermione shook her head. 'Leave that to me,' she said, and then glanced at him. 'You just concentrate on getting out my boxers without tearing them.'

A smile creased Sirius's face as she pulled onto the road and began driving back to the flat. He began fiddling with his clothes, unbuttoning the trench coat and pulling it off his shoulders.

'How was it?' Hermione asked.

Sirius shrugged. 'Piece of cake, and I really mean it. I went up to the Registrar, and there was a redhead behind the desk.'

Hermione remembered the girl whose Choos Ginny had attacked. 'What did you tell her?'

'That Mr. Richards had asked me to get him a file from the closet. She asked me why exactly I hadn't been to work the last three weeks, and I said I had the 'flu.'

Hermione looked sceptical. 'And she believed you?'

'Sure. I sniffled a bit to add to the melodrama. Anyway, when she let me in I slid the shelf on its grills and went down. It was quite easy, actually. I just went up to that platform sort of space and took a long, hard look at the city.'

'Did anyone speak to you?' Hermione asked, anxiously.

Sirius shook his head. 'There weren't many people about. Just some cloaked guys who looked like patrolmen. Either way, I don't think anyone's guessed that Jennifer's dead. They probably think she ran off on them. Or they will, at any rate. Anyway, when I came back up I modified the girl's memory.'

Hermione looked shocked. 'Why?'

'Because,' said Sirius, grimly, 'I don't want her asking Richards whether he got that file he sent Jennifer for. I don't know if he's in on this, but it's not a chance I'm willing to take. Don't worry,' he added gently, 'It won't do her any lasting harm.'

Hermione frowned as she pulled onto the road to her block. 'I suppose,' she conceded, unwillingly. She glanced again at Sirius. 'You are okay, aren't you?'

He smiled, and leaned over to kiss her cheek. 'Relax, Herms. I'm perfectly fine. And I had a nice look at everything down there, so I think we can go over to Grimmauld Place tomorrow and make that Pensive. The twins will be thrilled. They can get started on the powder as soon as possible.'

Hermione looked thoughtful. 'A month or so to make the stuff, right?'

Sirius nodded grimly. 'At least. We can't be sure. It's a damn difficult trick, though.'

'And then another month of surveillance,' Hermione added, 'At this rate, Kingsley's direct attack plan's only going to happen next year.'

Sirius nodded ruefully.

'You're right, and it's not great. But it's the best we can do.'

They lapsed into silence as Hermione pulled the car into her basement parking. She glanced at Sirius. 'Switch?'

He nodded, and handed her the boxers. Hermione slipped out of his pajamas, and slid her shorts up her legs. As she did so, her gaze fell on a small black camera that was mounted on a pillar to their left.

'Arthur's right,' she said, as she slid out of the car, 'Those things really are inconspicuous.'

Sirius glanced up, and nodded. 'Don't forget, we'll also be disillusioning them. It's actually a pretty good idea.'

Hermione nodded. Her eyes were slightly clouded.

'It is,' she murmured, 'I just wish it would get over sooner.'

Sirius looked at her for a long moment, and then snuck an arm around her waist as they headed to the elevator.

* * *

**Author's Note: Okay, I haven't slept in the last 48 hours, and I'm too exhausted to be chatty.**

**So please review?**


	29. Hallowe'en and Spun Sugar

**CHAPTER 29**

Grimmauld Place was relatively empty the next morning. Mrs. Weasley had called them all over for a Hallowe'en dinner at the Burrow, and had gone over with her husband and the twins to get everything ready. She had wanted Ginny to come, but the latter had declined, saying that she felt a little ill. When Mrs. Weasley expressed concern, Ginny simply said, 'Oh, relax Mum. It's just a bug. It'll probably pass over."

When Hermione and Sirius got into the house, Sirius headed straight to the kitchen where Remus and the others were eating a cold breakfast. Hermione told him she'd join him in a bit.

Sirius blinked. 'Where are you going?'

'To see Ginny,' Hermione explained. She bit her lip and added, 'Mrs. Weasley said she was a little ill.'

Sirius nodded and left. Hermione mounted the stairs with a slightly worried expression, and knocked cautiously on Ginny's door.

'Who is it?' Ginny's voice sounded hoarse and irritable. Hermione winced.

'It's me,' she called, 'Can I come in?'

There was a slight pause, and then Ginny said, 'Sure.'

Hermione opened the door and slipped inside, making sure to shut it tightly after her. The curtains were drawn, and the room was slightly dingy. She caught sight of Ginny, who was lying under several blankets and a lemon colored eiderdown. Her face was turned towards Hermione, and the latter saw that it was sickly and pale, with circles around the eyes and little lines at her brow.

She sucked in her breath. 'Ginny, you look like hell.'

Ginny frowned. 'Gee, thanks, Herms.'

Hermione crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. She took Ginny's small hand between her own.

'I mean it. How do you feel? Have you been eating right?'

'I guess so,' said Ginny, with a frown, 'I'm still not over my morning sickness, so I don't come down that much.' She heaved a deep sigh, and added, 'It's horrible hiding this from everyone, you know.'

'I know it is,' Hermione whispered, 'But you don't have to, you know.'

'Yes, I do,' Ginny said, bitterly, 'At least until Harry's letter comes back. Pregnancy really sucks. My feet ache all the time.'

Hermione managed a watery smile. 'Doesn't your mum suspect anything?'

Ginny shook head head. 'She thinks I'm down with the 'flu,' she explained, 'It's going around now, so it's kind of believable. But it's only going to be a while before she starts to suspect. Let's not talk about it, shall we? I want some normal time. Tell me what's been going on.'

'Well,' Hermione began, obligingly, 'I suppose you know about the cameras. Your dad got hold of a bunch of them, and-'

'Hermione,' Ginny interrupted, 'I meant between Sirius and you.'

Hermione looked taken aback. She frowned.

'Oh,' she said, after a slight pause, 'What- what makes you think anything's going on?'

'Well, nothing except the fact that everyone's talking about it.'

'Everyone's _talking_ about it?'

'Sure,' said Ginny, with a little shrug, 'Mum says you two have become virtually inseparable, and Dad says he's pretty sure Sirius is in love with you. Remus doesn't say anything, but he flits around with this secret little knowing look whenever the topic comes up. So, I'm going to ask you again. What's going on?'

Hermione shrugged, looking a little lost. 'Nothing,' she said, quickly, 'I mean, obviously, I love him, but-'

'Woah,' said Ginny, raising a pale hand, 'You love him?'

Hermione nodded, and said, matter-of-factly, 'Quite a bit, really.'

'So then- how can you say that nothing's going on?' Ginny asked, sounding puzzled.

'Because- oh, well, this is hard to explain, but because it doesn't feel like a relationship. I mean, it's not so structured. It's more like we're just taking things as they come, like we're two people who finally realized they loved each other and want to have a nice time of it.'

'Is he romantic?' Ginny asked, with interest.

Hermione considered this. 'Not really,' she conceded, 'He doesn't get me flowers or write me poems. But I feel so ridiculously comfortable with him, you know? It's like- well, it's like he's my best friend.'

Ginny managed a strained smile. 'Boy, you have it hard, don't you?' she asked.

'I suppose so.'

'If it means anything, I think Sirius and you look charming together,' Ginny said, with a little laugh. 'Is he downstairs?'

Hermione nodded. 'Brainstorming, as usual. We wanted the twins to be here, but your mother whisked them off to help sort cutlery and dark table clothes.'

Ginny rolled her eyes. 'Lucky them,' she said, sarcastically. 'You better get down, though, Herms. The others will be waiting for you.'

Hermione hopped off the bed, and kissed Ginny's brow. 'You sure you're okay?' she asked, 'Because really, Gin, if you feel something's wrong-'

'I'm perfectly fine,' said Ginny, injecting a hint of cheer into her voice, 'Now you go down and kick those Ministry asses.'

* * *

The kitchen was full of cold disapproval.

When Hermione entered, her gaze first landed on Sirius, who was sitting in an exaggeratedly casual pose, which could only mean he was on the high defensive. His head was thrown back, and he raked a hand through his hair every now and then, but she could see the rigid line of his back, and the firm set of his mouth. When she shut the door behind her, all eyes including his turned to face her.

'So,' began Remus, grimly, 'Sirius was telling us about your little adventure last night.'

Hermione bit her lip worriedly as she sat down next to Sirius, and he draped his hand over the back of her chair. 'I take it you don't approve?'

'Of course not,' Moo

'Not to mention potentially dangerous,' said Remus, eyes narrowed, 'What exactly would you have done, Sirius, if an alert was put out that Carla was missing, presumed dead?'

Sirius looked furious. 'Remus, I took a chance, and-'

'It was a risky chance, Sirius,' Kingsley said, gravely. He turned his eyes to Hermione. 'And did you have to go along with this?'

'Don't drag her into it,' Sirius said, loudly, 'The entire thing was my idea.'

'Sirius, that isn't entirely-'

'The point is that you took a huge chance,' Remus cut in, 'And it could have gone horribly wrong.'

'But it _didn't_,' Hermione said, earnestly. 'Don't you see? It's all worked out perfectly.' She glanced around the table, and was met with stony faces. 'Look,' she said, spreading her hands, 'I know it was stupid, but what's done is done. Look at the silver lining: Sirius had perfect memories of the city, and now you can use his Pensive.'

Remus raised his eyes heavenward. 'Silver lining,' he muttered, 'That's a nice one. Oh, well- I suppose I've grown too tired of telling Sirius he's a stupid imbecile. Looks like he's got to you faster than I expected, Hermione.'

Sirius chuckled, and Hermione looked indignant. 'And what's that supposed to-'

'Enough chitchat,' Moody said, gruffly. He turned to Sirius. 'I'll get the Pensive Basin from the upstairs and we can get down to business.

* * *

The Burrow had been extravagantly decorated that night. The little house was brightly lit, and large pumpkins reposed cheerfully on every available surface, their carved faces stuffed with candy and nuts. The table had been set out in the garden again, and festooned with a red and orange table cloth, on which Mrs. Weasley's grandmother's gold candlesticks glowed with carefully moderated flames. The food had surpassed itself. Hermione found herself eyeing the spread with an open jaw: a cursory glance registered a pork roast, a vegetable melange, a clear soup, carefully crafted mincemeat croquettes, and a coconut souffle for dessert.

'Brilliant,' breathed Sirius, coming up behind her and settling his hands on her waist.

Hermione turned to him and smiled. She had dressed in an appropriately festive manner, in a coral colored dress with three quarter sleeves and a fitted skirt. She wore a kneel length sweater over it, and Sirius's mother-of-pearl pendant at her throat.

'You look lovely,' Sirius murmured, kissing her cheek.

Hermione smiled. 'I thought Mrs. Weasley sent us out here to uncork the wine, not exchange mindless flattery.'

'What Molly doesn't know won't hurt her,' said Sirius. His arms linked in front of her stomach, and his lips slipped lower, to the crook of her neck. He breathed moistly on her sensitive skin, and she closed her eyes for a brief moment, breath catching.

'Sirius...'

'Yes, honey?' he asked, innocently.

'The others will be out in minutes. Fred and George have already apparated over.'

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

She laughed, and batted his face away.

'Paws off, rabbit,' she grinned. 'Come on- let's pour out the wine we brought and then go in to see the twins.'

Sirius grumbled, but let go of her. Hermione handed him a cork-opener and he expertly uncorked the Merlot, setting it at the table and then turning back to the house. They could hear cheerful voices from the kitchen, and hand in hand they walked back in.

The first person Hermione caught sight of in the crowded room was a stocky red-head with a remarkably pock-marked face.

'Charlie!'

He turned to her and bestowed her with a classic Weasley smile. He looked a little older than when she had last seen him, the first crows-feet etching into the corners of his eyes, and a hint of extra fat at his waist.

'Hey, Hermione,' he said, easily. He leaned over and gave her a hug. 'You look great. Have you grown a couple of inches?'

'I think that's the heels,' Remus said, mildly. He was standing over the table, his hand draped over Tonks's shoulder. She waved cheerfully at Hermione. She was wearing a gingham frock, and her hair was strawberry blond. The twins stood next to them with their father, dressed in identical jackets, and then Moody who looked uncomfortable and out of place. Ginny stood in a corner, her face still sickly. She was dressed in a loose tunic that hid the small bump on her belly, and a forcefully cheerful expression.

Hermione was about to go over and talk to him when Mrs. Weasley bustled into the room. She wore a checked apron over her sky blue dress, and a pearl necklace. She smiled when she caught sight of Hermione and Sirius.

'Have you two uncorked the wine? Let's go out to eat, then, shall we? I'll just put the finishing touches to the dessert.'

Dinner was a loud affair. Hermione sipped her wine, feeling slightly tipsy as she speared a cheesy mushroom with her fork and put it in her mouth. The food was brilliant, as usual, and it was only after fifteen minutes of hearty tucking in that she turned to talk to Charlie, who was on her right.

'When did you get back?' she asked.

He took a sip of wine. 'Today. I was planning on coming earlier, but some stuff came up. Nothing serious,' he added quickly, seeing her expression, 'Just a bit of helping out here and there.'

'Harry's last letter said he was in Bucharest,' Hermione said, taking another sip of wine.

Charlie nodded as he attacked his pork. 'I left just as we reached the city. Thought I could help out more over here.'

'Are things okay there, then?'

'More than okay,' said Charlie, with a little smile. 'The Death Eaters are in the city, and the others are planning an attack. Their numbers aren't quite large, so it should be wrapped up quite easily. Harry and Ron should be home in a couple of months.'

Hermione brightened up immediately. 'You should tell Ginny that,' she said, 'She misses Harry quite terribly.'

There was a pause in the conversation, as Mrs. Weasley brought out the dessert. In addition to the coconut souffle, she had made an ensemble that consisted of a heaped mountain of macaroons and almonds, festooned with a graceful veil of spun sugar. Hermione applauded along with the rest and then turned back to Charlie.

'How are the boys?' she asked, quietly.

Charlie took a moment to answer. 'Not at their best, obviously. But they've risen magnificently to the occasion. They've learned a lot from the war, you know. Some of the maneuvers Harry came up with were fantastic.'

Hermione looked proud, and then a little subdued. 'I'm glad he's coming home, though,' she said, 'I miss him awfully. He doesn't deserve any of this.'

Charlie smiled, and took her hand. 'Don't worry, Hermione,' he said, soothingly. 'Everything's going to be right, you know.'

* * *

**Author's Note: Okay, so this one was a bit shorter. I'm sorry it took a few days to update, but I'm back in college which means updating speed is going to reduce a bit. Not a lot though. I hope.**

**Also, this story is going to wrap up in about ten chapters or more. Sigh. **

**Oh, and I've also started planning a new one, which I'll put up only when this is done. Stick with me, okay?**

**Happy reading =D  
**


	30. Murders and Letters

**CHAPTER 30**

Hermione frowned, bending slightly more forward over her desk and ignoring the sensation of its wooden edge cutting into her stomach. Her eyes were screwed up with concentration, a quill clutched tightly in one hand. As she pored over page after page of a thick leather binder, the frown only deepened, and she finally flung the quill away and sat back.

'Unbelievable,' she muttered, 'I can't believe that's _all_ we've got in the archives.' Her gaze dropped distastefully to the sparsely inscribed pages. 'Write a report on the insanity pledge, he said. You'll find lots of material, he said. Is this what he calls material!'

She ended the condemnation with a snort, and then stood up, gathering her jacket. She jammed her hands into the sleeves, and picked up the binder, shrinking it to fit into her handbag. When she strode out of the office, she found Rachel poised to abandon the position behind her desk.

'There you are,' Hermione said, briskly, 'I'm not in for coffee today. I've been given the most ridiculously uninformed task possible, and I'm going to the Grimmauld Place library. Hopefully, I can find the mere iota of information required to substantiate this pathetic excuse of a-'

'Hermione,' Rachel interrupted, holding up a hand, 'You can't. Not right now, at least. Mr. Kaploffe wants to see you.'

Hermione froze. From the carefully guarded tones that Rachel said "Mr. Kaploffe", she wondered if he was in the room behind her. She turned and checked, but it was empty.

'Did he hear me?' she whispered.

'I don't know,' Rachel murmured in reply. 'He just called you into his office. I was coming to tell you.'

Hermione swallowed, and made a non-committal noise. 'Okay,' she muttered. 'Okay- here I go. Thanks, Rachel.'

She knocked apprehensively on Kaploffe's door, and when his stern voice said, 'Come in,' her heart thumped up against her tongue. But his expression, when she swung open the door and entered, was genial enough, and broke into a soft smile when he saw her.

'Hermione,' he said, gesturing towards the seat opposite him, 'Come on, sit down.'

Hermione edged nervously into the room and took a seat. 'You wanted to see me, Mr. Kaploffe.'

'I wanted to get a quick update on you. What are you working on, by the way?'

Hermione attempted not to grit her teeth. 'The insanity pledge.'

Kaploffe's eyebrows raised. 'Meaty,' he remarked, 'You must be having a nice time of it. Any difficulties?'

Hermione resisted the urge to tell him that the departmental archive was defunct, and instead chose to say, more diplomatically, 'It's a little challenging, but I enjoy it.'

Kaploffe raised an eyebrow in a manner that suggested he knew exactly what parallel train of thought was running through her mind. His tone, when he spoke, though, was affable enough.

'I'm glad to hear that. You rise magnificently to challenges, Hermione. You know that you can come to me if you have any difficulty though, don't you?'

Hermione bit her lip. This constant refrain of his was repetitive, but comforting.

'I do, sir,' she said, evenly, 'I'd like to try it out myself, though. I wouldn't want to come running to you with every little problem I have.'

'That's the spirit. Honestly, I haven't had a better employee in years,' Kaploffe said, looking pleased. He looked contemplative for a moment, and then murmured, 'Not since I worked in the Auror Department, anyway.'

Hermione's ears pricked up. She remembered Moody's vague words the night of her first day at the job, about how Kaploffe had quit the Auror Department with a suddenness that had surprised everyone. Accordingly, she adjusted the tone of her voice to a combination of casual and curious, and asked, 'Did you used to work there, then?'

Kaploffe looked sober. 'Years ago,' he said, a touch of evasiveness fluting his tone.

'Why did you leave?'

Kaploffe was silent for a moment. Finally, he said, 'Sometimes- well, sometimes you just realize how little is in your control when you're out there, in the battlefield.'

'Was this- was this during Voldemort's first- first-?'

Kaploffe nodded. 'It was when the Order of the Phoenix was first founded. I never joined it, but I did what I could as an Auror. It wasn't easy, you know. Colleagues dying, co-workers losing their arms and their minds-'

Hermione swallowed at the gruesome picture he painted. 'Were you the head?'

'Deputy. I had to make a lot of decisions, and they weren't easy ones. One thing that always got me angry-' he hesitated for a moment, and then Hermione could see a sparkle of passion in his eyes, 'Was the inefficiency of the Ministry. It irritated me. With people dying left right and center, all the Department could worry about was statutes and clauses. I had an assistant- she was a young girl, very much like you-'

His voice cut off again. Hermione felt a sudden urge to place her palm over his hand, but she resisted. Instead, she asked, gently, 'What was her name?'

'Faye,' he said, softy, 'Faye Melloney.'

His voice was so gentle that Hermione wondered for a moment if he had been in love with the girl.

'She was a brilliant assistant. She was bright- charming- extremely idealistic. She had a little office, directly outside mine. One day, she was working late. I asked her to stay behind and finish off some files for me. I told her to lock up before I left the office, and she promised that she would. The next morning, I found her body slumped behind the desk. Nobody found out who did it.'

There was a sense of raw emotion in his tone, and Hermione watched spell-bound as the storm took over his eyes. She remained silent, and he continued, 'It was terrible. It threw the Ministry into a pandemonium. I had had enough, though. There's a limit you can reach, taking decisions that affect the lives of others, before you decide the time has some to stop.'

His voice cut off, and he lapsed into a heavy silence. Hermione bit her lip, torn between genuine pity and a strange discomfort at being addressed so personally- along with an unexplainable urge to wrap her arms around her boss and tell him that everything would be alright. She was about to offer her sympathies when he looked up and met her gaze, sporting a watery smile.

'What's done is done,' he said, his voice carrying a heavy finality. 'There's only so much one can do. And remember, if you have any problem with your project, come straight to me.'

* * *

'Faye Melloney, is it?' Moody asked, shortly. His normal eye narrowed slightly, and he tapped a finger thickly against his chin. 'Yes, I remember her. Small slip of a girl. She had hair like yours, Hermione. But she was the meekest, most docile person I ever met.'

Grimmauld Place had been empty when she got back. Out of sheer habit she had avoided her flat, but when she got there, Moody was the only one in the kitchen. He explained that Mrs. Weasley was up in bed with a headache, Ginny was tired out, and the others had gone to town.

'Gone to town?' Hermione had asked, suspiciously. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

Moody chuckled. 'The portals,' he said, 'They've gone to give them a once over so that they can make blueprints. Then they can figure out where to mount these cameras Arthur's been on and on about.'

Hermione looked indignant. 'They went to check out the portals while I was still at work?' she demanded, 'Why the hell couldn't they have waited for me to come back?'

Moody scratched his head. 'Probably wanted to get it over with,' he said, 'We're kind of hard-pressed for time as it is. They took off sometime about the afternoon.'

'Which ones?' Hermione asked, anxiously.

'Sirius and Remus took the library, the one on Apple Street. Tonks and Shacklebolt are at the theater. I reckon they should be back sometime soon. Fancy a cup of tea till then?'

Hermione acquiesced- albeit grudgingly, and offered to boil the tea herself. It was after settling herself at the table in front of the steaming cup that she had introduced the topic of Faye Melloney.

'Did anyone find out what happened to her?'

Moody shook his head. 'Not a soul. More's the pity, I think. She was a lovely girl- didn't have much spunk, but charming as a doll.'

'Kaploffe seemed to think so too,' Hermione said, thoughtfully. 'In fact, I got the feeling he might have been in love with her.'

Moody considered this. 'Aye, she was his assistant, wasn't she? He was very cut up over her death. It was about then he quit the Department and went off to Legal.'

'Did he try and find out what happened?'

Moody nodded vigorously. 'As I remember, he left no stone unturned. It hassled him, and not just because it was in his office. I reckon he felt a bit guilty of it too- he was the one who asked her to stay late.'

'But that wasn't his fault!'

Moody nodded. 'I know that, and you know that, and I'm damn sure he knows that too. But it doesn't work that way, does it? The man might well have been in love with the lass. Makes sense, his quitting like that.'

Hermione considered this. She thought of her grounded, strong boss, and the slip of the girl Moody had just described, and felt her heart go out to them both.

'By the way,' Moody said, draining his cup of tea and slamming it back on the table with unnecessary force, 'Ginny was asking for you this afternoon.'

Hermione looked up. 'She was?'

'Around the time the others were leaving. Asked if you were going too. I reckon she's a bit lonely. Sickly little thing, isn't she?'

'Oh, yes,' Hermione said, grimly. She finished her tea, and pushed her chair back. 'I should probably go peek in on her. Will you be alright here down by yourself?'

Moody threw her a contemptuous look, and she stifled a smile as she climbed the stairs and walked down the corridor to Ginny's room. She knocked.

'Gin? It's me.'

'Come on in.'

Ginny sounded a little better, she mused. She pushed open the door, and found the girl propped up against the pillows. Her hair had been scraped off her brow, her face freshly washed, and she held a piece of parchment in one hand.

'Are you alright? You look better. I thought-'

'Harry's letter,' Ginny interrupted, holding up the piece. 'It came today.'

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. 'Did you- did it- what does he say?' she managed, finally.

Ginny wordlessly held the paper out, and Hermione took it in trembling fingers. The letter was abrupt, devoid of any salutation of signature. She recognized Harry's trademark scrawl.

_Are you alright? Does anybody know? I can't believe this is happening. I hope you aren't feeling too bad, Gin. Take care of yourself. I understand if you want to get rid of the baby. I wouldn't want that, but this isn't the time- you're right. Go ahead, if you think it's the right thing. Just remember- I love you._

Hermione heaved a sigh as she finished.

'So he's okay with this,' she said.

'Not happy,' Ginny pointed out.

'What did you expect? I didn't think he would be. But he's making an effort to understand this, and now it's up to you.'

Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed, and took her hand. Ginny frowned, and bit her lip.

'You think it's a dilemma for me, isn't it?' she asked. 'Now that Harry's left it to me, you think it's the most difficult decision I'll ever have to make.'

'Ginny, anyone would think it was diffi-'

'_But it isn't,' _Ginny interrupted, hastily. Her eyes found Hermione's, and held her gaze beseechingly. 'Don't you understand? This is the easiest desicion I've ever had to make. I know what I want, Hermione. If that makes me a terrible person, or-'

'It doesn't,' Hermione said, firmly. 'Of course it doesn't. If you don't think you're ready to become a mother, your right about it. When- when are you going?'

Ginny bit her lip. 'Tomorrow. I want to get this over with as soon as possible. I'm already showing a little, you know.'

Hermione inspected her face. 'Really? All I can see is a hint of chub.'

Ginny smiled, and lifted the material of her pale blue jumper off her stomach. Hermione's expression changed as she caught sight of the slightest hint of a bump over her hipbones. The belly was ridiculously slight, but it seemed to pulse with the weight of the desicions Ginny was so lightly taking.

'Oh, Gin-'

'Don't,' Ginny interrupted, 'Don't tell me it's beautiful.'

'I won't,' Hermione said, quietly. She leaned forward and pulled Ginny into a hug, which was returned with a fierce sort of defiance. As she pulled back, Ginny said, 'I'm going tomorrow evening. There's a clinic in Diagon Alley. You'll come with me, won't you?'

'Of course,' Hermione found herself saying, 'Of course I will.'

* * *

**Author's Note: Ugh, I'm so sorry that took so long. I have no excuses. I'm just a horrible, horrible person.**

**I hope you enjoyed it though. The next one will be quicker, I promise =D**

**Also, quick reminder: REVIEW!**


	31. Fights and Discoveries

**CHAPTER 31**

'There you are,' Sirius said, as he carefully closed the apartment door behind him. 'I expected you at Grimmauld Place.'

He spoke lightly, but Hermione could sense the slight worry that tinged his words. She uncurled herself off the couch, and loped over to him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug and reveling in the sense of familiarity. Sirius hugged her back, kissing the side of her neck and murmuring, 'Not so worried now.'

'Don't be,' she said, letting go and smiling up at him. 'I did come over after work. I had a few words with Moody and Ginny, and then decided to come back. And just where do you get off, Sirius Black, being worried about me. You're the one who scooted off for some portal-spying without me!'

He laughed and started off the kitchen, Hermione following behind him. 'It was harmless, Hermione. Besides, we wanted to get it over with. Remus and I were down at the library.'

'I know. Moody told me. What happened?'

He shrugged. 'Can I get dinner on, while we talk about this. I'm starving. I'm assuming you didn't bother to venture into the kitchen on your own?'

'I had noodles,' Hermione said, fixing him with a glare. 'But I don't mind an omelet, if you could make one now.'

Sirius bowed extravagantly, and flipped open a drawer, dragging out a frying pan. 'Give me a minute.'

'What happened at the library?'

'Nothing,' said Sirius, as he cracked a couple of eggs into a bowl and whisked them with a fork. 'There's a librarian there, who we're pretty sure is one of them. She's a sneaky looking thing in glasses. Remus and I told her we were looking for books on medieval instances of homosexuality, and she followed us around the whole time keeping an eye on us. Dig into the fridge and hand me some spinach and the feta, will you?'

Hermione cocked an eyebrow as she pulled at the twine around the spinach and then handed it to him. 'Medieval instances of homosexuality?'

'Best we could come up with in such short notice. I don't think she suspected anything, but she certainly presents a problem,' Sirius said, as he began to dice the spinach finely. Hermione found herself slightly preoccupied by his hands, and the quick, expert way in which he moved them.

_In more ways than one, _she thought, a little smugly.

'Why the preen, my darling?'

She glanced up and found Sirius watching her with an amused smile.

'Never you mind,' she said, archly. 'Did you find the entrance?'

Sirius tossed the eggs, and spinach into the pan and dug out a spatula. 'Remus cast a weak magic detection spell, and said he could pinpoint the general area in which it was. We couldn't do much with Little Miss Nosy around, though.'

'That could be a bit of a problem, couldn't it?' asked Hermione, frowning as she cut the feta into like pieces.

'Not so much, really. Nothing a simple memory charm couldn't fix. Moody's been going on and on about how they're breakable, but I think that between us we could come up with something that's nifty enough to do the trick.'

'That wasn't what I was talking about,' said Hermione, as Sirius flipped over the omelet and it sizzled with promise, 'But the Marriage Registrar was manned by Jenny, and this librarian is holding post over there- doesn't it make sense that the other portals would have guards as well?'

'Probably,' said Sirius, sliding the omelet onto a plate and cutting it into half. 'But that just means a lot of memory charms. It shouldn't be too difficult. We just need partial charms. We wouldn't want them to turn into blathering idiots.'

Hermione smiled faintly. 'It doesn't sound that easy, Sirius.'

'Time is of the essence, Herms. We'll make it work. Which reminds me- what are you doing tomorrow evening?'

Hermione thought briefly of Ginny's pale, wan face. 'I have- plans...'

'Cancel them,' Sirius said, briskly.

'But- I- why?'

'Hang on just a moment.' Sirius ground pepper onto the omelets and carried their plates to the table. 'Let's sit down and eat. Would you like some wine? I think there's an open bottle of Merlot somewhere.'

'That would be nice,' Hermione said, with a distracted frown, 'But Sirius-'

'Just a minute.' He yanked open the fridge, and brought out the bottle along with two stemmed glasses, pouring a liberal measure into each. 'Here you go. Nice, isn't it. Very dry.'

Hermione sighed as she leaned forward and took a bite of her omelet. 'This is delicious,' she said, thickly, through a mouth full of spinach and cheese.

'Obviously. I made it. Now- what did you want to tell me?'

'Why do you want me to cancel tomorrow evening?'

A broad smile spread across Sirius's face. 'Because you and I have a date with Deborah Arkwright's salon,' he said, looking pleased, 'How does that sound? We can check it out quickly and get back. We're planning a meeting over the weekend to go over all our data.'

'Sirius,' Hermione said, quietly, 'I can't cancel out on tomorrow's plans.'

Sirius's excited expression faded, and was replaced by one of concern. 'Why?' he asked, sounding faintly dismayed, 'Is it a work thing?'

'Yes,' Hermione said, pursing her lips, 'Yes, it's a- a work thing.'

'What?' asked Sirius, frowning, 'Isn't it something you can get out of?'

'No, it isn't,' Hermione said, firmly, 'Kaploffe wants me to do some- some paperwork- stuff, that came in.'

Sirius cocked an eyebrow. 'What stuff?'

'A case,' Hermione said, vaguely.

'Really? I thought you had no cases coming in.'

'Well, they are now,' Hermione said, her temper rising slightly. 'I have lots of work to do, Sirius. I really can't come.'

'Oh,' said Sirius, chewing ruminatively on a piece of omelet. He swallowed, and then pushed the plate away.

'Look, we can always do it over the weekend,' Hermione said, softly.

Sirius nodded. 'Of course. I know that. I just thought you might have your priorities right, by now.'

Hermione froze, and then pushed her plate away from her in a quick, jerky movement. 'Excuse me?' she asked, disbelievingly. 'What did you just say?'

'You heard me, Herms. It's okay, though. No worries.'

'No _worries_?' she snapped, angrily, 'What's that supposed to mean? And where exactly do you get off, taking a dig at _my _priorities?'

'Well,' said Sirius, with a nonchalant shrug that gave away his defiance, 'I just would have thought that this- well, this fight would have been important to you.'

'Important to me?' asked Hermione, her voice rising in pitch, 'Of course it's important to me, you mind-numbing nitwit.'

'Well, if you'd cancel on it just so that you can go shopping, or sample sushi, or something like that-'

'Sirius Black, you're crossing the line,' Hermione said. Her tone had become deathly quiet. 'It's nothing like that.'

'Then what is it? There is _nothing_ going on in your life right now that's more important than this war!'

'That's all you know!' Hermione fired back, 'I mean, what- am I supposed to tell you every itty-bitty detail of my life, now? Don't pretend you fucking tell me yours!'

Sirius narrowed his eyes. 'What exactly is that supposed to mean?'

'It means we can have secrets, Black! I can have mine, and you can have yours! All your little problems _before_ I came into your life, with James and Lily-'

'Shut up!' Sirius snapped, and Hermione recoiled in shock. 'Shut up, you ignorant little _fool_, because you know _nothing_ about my life before you came into it!'

'And whose fault is that?' Hermione asked, recovering herself and jutting her shoulders out. 'Exactly whose fault is _that_?'

'You know what, I can't do this,' Sirius said, disgustedly. He stood up and pushed his chair away from him.

'That's right,' Hermione said, coldly, 'Just leave, won't you? Get out of my apartment!'

'I'm going. Call me when you grow up.'

Hermione fled to her room before he slammed the door behind him, and stood propped up against the wall for a moment, breathing deeply. Something in her chest was clenching painfully, and there was a hard lump in her throat. She searched for tears but her face was dry: despite the panic that was spreading through every part of her body, she couldn't cry. She hesitated for a moment, and then peeked outside.

He had left, and closed the door quietly behind him.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione went outside, and tried to calm the rage and defiance that was boiling up inside her. She moved mechanically, clearing away the plates and scraping the remains of the omelet into the dustbin, putting back the feta and leaving the frying pan to soak in soapy water so she could scrub it dry the next day. She pulled a sponge from a cupboard and held it under the tap for a moment.

_How dare he? How dare he talk to me like that, the bloody fuckface._

She wiped down the table, and poured herself more wine. She drank it off in quick gulps and then filled the glass to the brim again. The anger was beginning to dissipate now, and left behind it a cold, empty feeling that compelled her to finish off the wine, head to her bedroom, and climb under the covers fully-dressed.

The tears came only when her head hit the pillow, and she felt how cold it was.

* * *

Hermione woke up the next morning and stretched her arm out in a half-conscious state. Her fingers splayed across icy sheets. She opened her eyes slowly, willing them not to see what she knew she was going to.

No such luck. The bed was empty.

She sat up groggily in bed and headed to the bathroom as if on automatic mode. Everything she did seemed mechanical, forced. She squeezed toothpaste onto her brush, scrubbed her face with the correct upward motions, showered quickly, letting her fingers dig into her scalp and conditioned carefully so that her hair didn't fall out. She wound a towel around herself and another around her hair and applied her make up, her fingers moving quickly as she dabbed on foundation and then slicked some shiny white powder at the corners of her eyes. She selected a brick red lipstick, which she put on carefully, smudged it, and then climbed into a thick black woolen dress and wrapped a bottle green silk scarf around her neck. Only when she was entirely done did she head out to the kitchen.

Hermione stared at the blank table, and realized that she was going to have to make breakfast for herself for the first time in months. If she was to be perfectly honest with herself, some small part of her had hoped all along that Sirius really had come back, perhaps in the morning, and was sitting at the table right now with coffee and the newspaper. That irrational part of her mind had wondered whether he would bend to his knees with flowers and apologize, but she knew Sirius was like that. She had thought that he would maybe take her by the hand and sit her down, so that they could talk about the fight, draw clear lines, and promise to be more level-headed in the future.

But the kitchen was empty, so Hermione felt a small frisson of anger once again (_How dare he not come back? How big is his ego, anyway?) _and she made toast for herself, spreading it with the remains of last night's feta and gulping down orange-carrot juice. When she was done, she loaded the plate and glass in the dishwasher, and packed her handbag. She pulled on a black silk quilted jacket, and her stockings which she always left to the last because they were so uncomfortable. She couldn't face the thought of heels today, so instead stepped into a pair of flats and left the apartment, locking the door carefully behind her.

She was a few minutes late for work, and Rachel had already dispensed with her nail polish and perfume, instead being in the process of arranging a sheaf of papers on her desk. She glanced up with a smile as Hermione entered.

'You're a bit late. Coffee?'

'That would be great, thanks. Is Kaploffe in?'

'Yeah, he got in a while back, but he's really busy right now, I think. He told me not to let anyone.'

'That's okay, I was just checking,' Hermione said, quietly. She felt wan and tired already. 'I better head in, I got another binder to work on yesterday.'

'Best of luck,' said Rachel, cheerfully, and Hermione wished she was her. 'Do you want to catch lunch at one?'

'You know, I think I'm going to be a bit busy,' Hermione said. She attempted a smile, but judging from Rachel's expression it turned out more like a grimace. 'I'll see you in a bit, honey, thanks.'

She headed to her office, shutting the door firmly behind her, and took in a deep breath as she soaked in the familiarity of it. She sat down behind her desk and splayed her fingers over the wood: it was warm from the sun that filtered in through the window, and looked inviting. Sighing softly, she opened the orange binder, and glanced down at it. At first, it seemed to be a complicated jumble of data and figures, but once she got into the rhythm of it she fell into a familiar pattern of categorizing the information internally, and jotting small points in a series of neat columns. She worked harder than she had in a while, her mind completely focused on the work in front of her. She didn't notice the shadows from the window stretching themselves across her office, and when her stomach grumbled audibly a while later, she was shocked to see that the hands of the wall clock pointed to half past three.

She was ridiculously hungry now, so Hermione decided to head to the cafeteria for a bite. She shrugged on her coat and shut the office door behind her. The reception was empty, so she left a note to Rachel telling her where she was in case Kaploffe called, and headed down the slender corridor off the Atrium. To her dismay, she found her mind slipping away from the familiar confines of work, to the slightly more uncomfortably problems of her husband.

She was surprised that he hadn't messaged or tried to get in touch the whole day, and this made her irritated and worried. It bugged her, because all said and done he had been immensely rude last night, and she felt she deserved an apology. And it worried her, because some irritation part of her mind was immediately worrying about where he was, and what he was doing, and whether he was in trouble. She tended to scorn over-possessive girlfriends, but Hermione couldn't help the concern: it niggled into her mind like a virus, and stayed put there.

She was so deeply immersed in her thoughts that she didn't notice she had dropped her scarf until someone tapped her shoulder. She turned around and came face to face with a tall, burly man in a janitor's uniform. His face was broad with little laugh lines, and his hair was an indistinct color somewhere between blond and brown.

'Excuse me, ma'am,' he said, politely. 'I think you dropped this.'

Hermione glanced down at the scarf and her eyes widened. It had cost her an arm and a leg.

'I'm so sorry,' she said, quickly, 'Thanks so much for picking it up.'

'Not a problem, ma'am,' he said, and flashed her a quick smile. It was confident and toothy, and something about it triggered some part of Hermione's memory, although she couldn't pinpoint quite what. She frowned, and asked, carefully, 'I walked into you a while back, didn't I? In this same corridor.'

'That's right, ma'am,' he said, 'But like I said, no harm done.'

'I seem to be bumping into you a lot lately,' Hermione continued. He flashed her a quick smile again, and Hermione immediately recognized where she had seen it before- in a Polaroid picture, with a woman who was now dead.

'You!' She gasped, her eyes widened with shock and horror, 'You! You're- you're Roran White!'

An expression of shock crossed the janitor's face, which was quickly replaced by one of determination and focus. He made a quick movement, and Hermione realized that he was drawing out his wand. She tried to mirror it, but just as she felt her fingers curling around the cold wood, she saw a bright flash of red light and then everything went black.

* * *

**Author's Note: Again, I'm late. Sorry. No, really, I am.**

**This chapter was loads of fun to write, though. I thought it was high time Sirius and Hermione had a fight. I mean, there's no relationship that's all smooth-sailing, is there?**

**Plus: revelations. Wow.**

**Now be darlings and review. =D  
**


	32. Bars and Clinics

**CHAPTER 32**

Before Hermione was entirely awake, she became conscious of something hard and cold under her. She stirred a bit, trying to soothe the thick, pounding pain in her head and then blearily opened her eyes. The entire world spun and twirled around before blinking into focus: she stared up at a bleak ceiling, with bits of plaster peeling off it, and a naked bulb that hung on a red cord and was switched off.

She experimented with her arms, moving them out from under her body, and her fingers splayed across cold stone: she had been dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. The bulb above her was switched off, and it took her a moment to realize that the only light in the room was the faint glimmer that sifted in from under the doorway. It was cold and neon-white, like the frosted cut-glass hangings that adorned the Ministry corridors.

_Am I in the Ministry?_

It took her a moment to realize what was happening, and when it did her eyes widened with rediscovered shock. All her clothes were intact, but an experimental rummage made it clear that her wand was gone. Getting to her feet and allowing her week ankles a moment to find their balance, Hermione glanced around and tried to take in her surroundings. The room she was in was tiny- hardly ten feet by ten, with one wall racked with shelves, filled with bottles of clear blue cleaning solution, and buckets. A box of Kleenex stood propped up in one corner, and a mop was balanced in the other.

_Oh, great_. _I'm in a broom cupboard. _

She walked to the shelves, running her eyes quickly over their flat, dusty surfaces and even checking in the buckets, but she couldn't catch sight of her wand. She did find her green scarf bundled up in one, however, and straightened it out, pulling strands of dust and bunnies of it and cursing Roran White silently.

Her head was still spinning, so Hermione gave herself a few minutes, simply standing straight and holding her chin high. She began to feel better gradually, and walked over to the door of the cupboard. She tried the handle, which was icy cold, and then dropped to her knees and peered out the keyhole.

She saw a slice of tan carpeting, and a very familiar cream-and-gold striped wallpaper. Hermione heaved a sigh of relief. She was obviously still in the Ministry. She wished she had known what time it was, but she was ridiculously careless with her watch and had been remembering it the past few weeks only because Sirius had kept it out on her table: even running down the street after her, waving it wildly in his hand one day. Now, she had no clue what the time was, although the stillness in the corridor seemed to suggest that it was quite late.

She bit her lip, realizing suddenly that everyone at Grimmauld Place would be ridiculously worried about her. Not to mention Rachel and Kaploffe who had no idea where she had gone. She wondered miserably whether Sirius had come home, or whether he even knew that she gone. As she did, she felt a pang of loneliness and wished with all her might that she hadn't chosen last night of all nights to pick a fight. If she hadn't, he would have immediately gotten worried and reported it to everyone, and more importantly _she would have her watch_.

'This is not the time for self-pity,' she muttered, and her voice sounded like sparklers in the thick, buzzing silence. 'Do something.'

'But what?'

'I don't know. Be resourceful.'

'With what?'

'Isn't that your problem?'

'Um. I'm talking to myself.'

She shook her head and got up off her knees, glancing around to see what she had at her disposal. A mop, what looked like a ragged dish cloth, and a bunch of buckets. She rolled her eyes.

_This situation is virtually impossible._

There was only one thing to do, she decided. She was stuck in here until Roran White decided to let her out- which she assumed he did, because he couldn't very well let her rot to death in a Ministry cupboard- and she was wandless. She gripped the mop in both hands, and tried picking it up. It was sufficiently heavy, which meant that it would probably deliver quite a hefty blow. Making up her mind, she grabbed it up, and leaned carefully against the wall behind the doorway, her ears pricked up to catch any noise.

Two hours later, Hermione was still in that position, although her grip on the mop had gone slack, and she now wore a very bored expression. Her ankles had begun to ache, and there was nothing she wanted to do more than to leave this cupboard and go home. This, as far as she was concerned, was a ridiculous waste of time. Even the potential fear of the situation had been stifled be irritation. She was just about to give up and throw herself in a sulky heap on the floor when she heard soft footsteps on the corridor outside, and stiffened to attention again.

The noise of a key in the lock sent her into a sort of calm determination, and she coiled her fingers tighter around the handle of the broom, tensing herself up. She held her breath as the door swung open slowly, and a tall shadow stretched itself into the frame. She could hear him breathe deeply, and take a step forward. Biting her lip and forcing herself not to close her eyes, Hermione took a step forward and swung the mop around with all her strength.

She felt the mop make contact before she heard it: a thick, shuddering jar that spread up the handle and reverberated in her fingers, followed by a sickening thud and a loud, loose groan. Roran White stumbled into view, his hand clapping up on his head, but when he turned to face her Hermione realized he was still most definitely conscious.

She lifted the mop again, her face twisting with the effort, but before she could do anything, Roran had snarled, 'Oh, no, you don't!' and his hands swung out to her, knocking it out of her hands. Hermione heard it clattering to the floor somewhere to her side, and tried to curl her hands into fists, but before she could he had tightened his grip on both her arms and swung her around, using her back to push the door shut. He flipped her around again and let go, turning the key in the lock with one swift movement and pocketing it.

'Let me go,' Hermione said, warningly. His fingers had bruised her arms, and she could feel them prickling. 'I'll scream.'

'Lot of good it'll do you,' Roran muttered. He had removed his cap, and the resemblance to the man in the photo was suddenly glaringly obvious.

'Of course it will,' Hermione said, coldly. 'I know we're at the Ministry.'

'Clever,' said Roran. He dropped to his knees and peered out of the keyhole. When he straightened up again, his expression was urgent.

'Okay,' he said, tensely, 'Nobody's seen us. We're lucky your little trick with the mop didn't work. That hurt like hell, by the way.'

'I'm glad,' said Hermione, 'So did your Stunning Jinx. Let me go.'

'Not just yet. I need to talk to you.'

'Oh,' said Hermione, disbelievingly, 'So is that why you kidnapped me?'

Roran rolled his eyes. 'I did not kidnap you,' he said, patiently, 'You were screaming my name out in the corridors of the Ministry, which is extremely dangerous for me. You're Hermione Granger, aren't you?'

She froze. 'How did you know?'

'I could ask you the same question.'

Hermione bit her lip as she considered whether to answer him. Finally, she said, 'We went to your apartment. I found a picture of you and Jennifer Duchamps.'

A shadow crossed Roran's face. 'Did she put you up to this?'

'No,' said Hermione, quickly, 'She's dead.'

If Roran was surprised, he didn't show it. His face remained impassive for a moment, and then he said, 'Look, I'm not going to hurt you. You're part of the Order, aren't you? I swear, I mean no harm. In fact, I want to help you.'

The last sentence took the breath out of Hermione, and she staggered a bit, falling back and slumping against the wall. She suddenly felt immensely tired.

'What do you mean?' she asked, wearily.

'I don't want to talk about this here,' Roran said, urgently. His voice was clipped and nervous. 'Look, can we go somewhere we'll be safe to talk?'

'Hang on one moment,' Hermione said, with a frown. 'What's the time?'

He glanced at a thickly-strapped watch around his wrist. 'It's half past six.'

'Well, then we can talk, but not now,' Hermione said, firmly, 'I have an important appointment. And _don't_ you dare question my priorities, or I will personally wring your fat little neck.'

Roran's face remained impassive, but Hermione thought she saw the corners of his mouth twitch. 'Then when do we talk?' he asked.

'Later at night. Come to my flat- actually, on second thought, don't. I'd prefer to meet somewhere else.'

'There's a restaurant near my place that's really good,' Roran offered.

* * *

When Hermione got to Grimmauld Place, huffing and still in the process of tying her scarf around her neck, she found Ginny sitting with her parents at the dining table. She was taken aback for a moment: the sight seemed so unusual. It ashamed her to think that, but if she was to be truly honest, Ginny had sort of been relegated to a particular part of her mind that she associated with being locked up in some dingy room. The youngest Weasley looked a bit more cheerful today, smiling and talking to her parents. Hermione wondered whether she was relieved to finally be almost done with this. She was dressed in a bright blue dress and held a sequined hand bag on her lap. To her slight consternation,Hermione say that she was drinking wine.

'Hey, Herms,' Ginny said, as she Hermione panted in and leaned her hip against the table. Arthur and Molly smiled up at her.

'Hey,' said Hermione, still panting. She had raced in all the way from the Apparition Point, and the combination of running and having the air sucked out of her lungs left her winded. She sniffed a bit, and realized that Ginny was wearing her favorite perfume after a long time- something that smelled like wet freesias.

'Ready to go?' Ginny asked, standing up and slinging her handbag over one shoulder.

'Where are both of you out to?' Mrs. Weasley asked. Hermione could tell that she was infinitely thankful that Ginny was getting out of the house again.

'We thought we'd grab a quick bite to eat,' Ginny said, brightly. 'We haven't been out in so long. Maybe a little dancing.'

'Well, have fun,' Molly said, smiling broadly. Hermione could almost feel her heart break as she thought of how Molly would react if she really knew where they were going. 'Be back before twelve, Ginny.'

'Oh, we'll be back long before that,' Hermione said, reassuringly, 'I have a hectic day tomorrow.'

Arthur frowned. 'Hermione, it's Saturday.'

'I know, but I have some files I still have to go over,' Hermione said, only part-truthfully.

Arthur shook his head. 'You work yourself too hard, dear. Anyway, have fun tonight, girls. Don't get into any trouble.'

'We won't,' Ginny said with a smile, and Hermione wondered how she could lie so well.

* * *

'You're late,' Ginny hissed, as they got onto the pavement and began walking arm and arm. It was hideously cold, and Hermione wondered whether it would begin to snow early. 'What happened?'

'Nothing,' Hermione muttered back. 'It doesn't matter, I'll tell you later. How are you feeling?'

Ginny smiled slowly. 'You'll probably think me a horrible person for saying this, but wonderful.'

'I don't think you're a horrible person, honey.'

'Sure you don't- openly. But I'm pretty certain there's a part of you wondering why I'm not tortured with doubt over this.'

Hermione stopped walked, and turned Ginny around. She planted her hands on her friends' shoulders, and said, firmly, 'Ginny, I know why you're doing this, and I don't blame you for it at all. You're not ready- nobody is- and I can understand that. Nobody can force you to want to be a mother.'

Ginny was silent for a moment, and then said, quietly. 'Thank you. It means a lot to me that someone understands.'

'Harry understands,' Hermione pointed out.

Ginny shook her head. 'He doesn't, and I know it. He only agreed because he knows it's what I want. Inside, Harry's wondering how I could summon the balls to actually kill our baby. In fact, I'm pretty sure he's wondering,_ What exactly would Hermione do?'_

Hermione jerked. 'What? Why would he think that?'

Ginny shrugged. 'I don't know, but Harry's always held you as his vision of the ultimate girl, hasn't he? You've been his best friend since he was eleven. A part of him is always going to rate me up according to you.'

'Ginny, that isn't true,' Hermione said. They were attracting glances now, standing arm-in-arm on the crowded street and getting jostled by pedestrians. 'Harry doesn't rate you up to anybody. And Harry of all people would know that in the same position, I would probably do the same thing.'

'You were pretty shocked when I initially told you,' Ginny pointed out.

Hermione shrugged. 'I know. But to be honest, I've never been pregnant, so I can't know how it feels. I always assumed there was some basic instinct that linked a mother and a baby, but I have to admit that being practical is a lot in itself.'

'And that's why I love you,' Ginny said, leaning up and giving her a kiss, 'Because you're so wonderfully practical. Shall we go and get this over with?'

Hermione smiled and nodded. 'I think that's exactly what we should do.'

* * *

Sirius sat with his head slumped against the bar of a shady pub in some dingy corner of the city. The pub was built into the ground floor of an inn that was unoriginally christened "The Bells and Motley", and which consisted of a set of raw-wood planks crowded together in a low-slung, unattractive fashion. It had a rather cheerful board, in stark comparison, which was painted in yellow and blue with stripes of gilt at the corners.

He was drinking his tenth or eleventh whiskey since after lunch, and Sirius was complacently wallowing in a stew of self pity. A string of neon-purple lights were hung up on the shelves stacked with bottles, and he was watching them wink on and off lazily, trying to understand why they were doing that. The bartender, a stocky man with a straw-colored mop of hair on his head, had been eying him suspiciously since his fifth drink, and had been wondering vaguely whether to stop serving him, but he had clicked open the cash register, seen how empty it was, and decided against it. He had compensated for that by serving Sirius a side order of curried prawns _on the house._

Now, Sirius bit morosely into a prawn and chewed ruminatively at its strangely cheesy flavor. His mouth felt dry, his head ached because he hadn't had a bite to eat since morning- well, actually since he woke up, which had been approximately half past one in the afternoon, and he felt altogether miserable. He tried to assemble his thoughts into some form of coherence, but all he got out of them was an assorted jumble of flashes and memories: leaving the apartment last night, not in a huff of temper, but in a pall of cold fury that visited him so infrequently it worried him- wondering whether to go to Grimmauld Place, but then picturing the concerned expression on Remus's face and decided against it- roaming the streets dejectedly, and having a pint at the neighborhood bar before deciding he needed to be further away from Hermione to get peace of mind, and finally finding solace in the form of the Bells and Motley. He had checked in for the night and had been shown to a rather dingy room with faded pink and white striped wallpaper, and a bed that creaked ominously. He had heard scuffles all night that he was sure was from rats, the water jug was empty, and the only matches in the room were colored vividly pink and smelled bad, which ruined the taste of his cigarettes. He had tossed and turned uncomfortable, and finally fallen into a restless sleep that had lapsed into something deeper as soon as the sun rose. He woke up with a pounding headache and a film of red under his eyelids, not to mention a sort of gut-wrenching guilt that he refused to contemplate, and then decided that only a drink would solve his problem.

He had chosen not to think of Hermione all day. At some subconscious level- because he refused to contemplate it on a conscious one- he wondered why he had reacted so badly to her, to their conversation, and why he hadn't gotten over that initial flash of irritation at being excluded from something in her life. Last night, what he had felt had been beyond anger. It had been a cold, hard, glassy emotion that he had felt only twice before in his life. The first time, it had been when he left home, right after his mother informed him that he was a blemish to the family name and he had automatically known that it was really the other way around- that he would be the only Black worth remembering. The second time had been-

But no. He wouldn't think of that.

Somehow, he had never associated that part of him with Hermione. It seemed to represent everything he was past- James, Lily, Azkaban- and he had thought he had put it behind him forever. The night of Harry's birthday, when he and Hermione had sat together and drunk, he had been fresh off a resolution taken that evening: to put behind the past and move on in life. It was a resolution that was born after months and months of spending his evenings locked in his room, staring pathetically at a picture of the Potters. The night of Harry's birthday, he had looked at that picture, and realized that the chubby baby in Lily's arms was a fully-grown adult, and suddenly he had become horrified by how redundant his life was. He had taken a vow, right there and then, to push all the unpleasantness, the guilt and the regret behind him, and turn to a newer, hopefully brighter future.

At which point Hermione had promptly walked into his life.

It struck him that perhaps that resolution was what had made him take Hermione so seriously. Of course, not when he was fucking her that night, but later, when they woke and realized the crises they were in. The Sirius of those days- the one who went with her to the Marriage Registrar, and settled into her flat, and made her breakfast without expecting sex on the kitchen counter in return- was not the Sirius of his youth. It was a person who had matured, albeit late in life, and had settled upon the golden concept of _compromise_. Perhaps, he mused, he had been so willing to compromise because at some level he had known- no, hoped, maybe?- that the easy relationship he shared with Hermione would amount to something more. It made sense that his new resolution would push him towards the unfamiliar; after all, he had spent a lifetime avoiding that kind of relationship, except-

He shook his head. All that was in the past, he reminded himself. He loved Hermione, and he had treated her wrong. But although these thoughts were running about on some strange alleys of his mind, he refused to bring it to the forefront. That part of him was wondering whether he could down another drinking without falling off the barstool and making a scene. Or whether he even cared at all.

* * *

The clinic was suspiciously shabby at first glance, with whitewashed walls and a facade with a large medical cross painted on the front. It was strangely empty, and the reception was white and sprayed liberally with spirits. A platinum-blonde woman whose sleek, plastic-curl hair-do was reminiscent of the 60's, smiled fakely at them and asked them to take a seat.

'Our doctor will be with you in two minutes,' she said. She was exceptionally toothy.

They sat down on uncomfortable tan leather seats, and Hermione took Ginny's hand, squeezing it gently as she felt the latter tremble.

'Don't worry,' she whispered, 'It's almost over.'

Ginny took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. The door to the office opened, and a tall woman with dark brown hair and a stern expression stepped out.

'Who's next?' she asked, briskly.

The platinum blonde receptionist pointed towards them.

The doctor walked forward and extended a hand. 'Good evening,' she said, as Ginny shook it hesitantly, 'I'm Dr McDonald. Follow me, please.'

She led them into her office, that was sparsely furnished like the rest of the building. The walls were white-washed, her desk was sparse and Hermione could see the lines of the wood under the polish. She had a neat stack of quills, a stand for her wand, and a sheaf of files with signatures scrawled over them. A cabinet with labelled boxes sat behind her.

'How may I help you?' she asked, as she sat down and steepled her fingers in a professional manner.

Ginny cleared her throat. 'I- I need an abortion,' she said, quietly.

Dr McDonald raised a carefully-plucked eyebrow. 'I see,' she said, 'May I know how far along you are?'

Ginny said, 'About four months.'

'You're remarkably thin for a woman four months pregnant, Miss-' Dr McDonald paused, and glanced up expectantly.

'I'd prefer not to say,' Ginny said, firmly.

The doctor was silent for a moment, and then turned to Hermione. 'Are you a relative?'

'No,' said Hermione, 'I'm her friend.'

'What about the father? You realize we need a written authorization from him as well?'

Ginny bit her lip. 'The father is not in the picture,' she said, firmly, 'He wants nothing to do with the baby.'

Hermione's eyes widened with shock. She glanced at Ginny, who's pale face was set in a hard mask. Suddenly, she realized that Ginny had probably foreseen the problem of Harry's authorization, and had practiced the lie before hand.

'Very well,' said Dr McDonald, pulling a piece of notepaper and a quill to her, 'We can finish off the process this evening. I presume that would be preferable to you. Can you give me so details, please?'

'Such as.'

'Exact date of conception?'

'July 31st,' said Ginny.

'Are you sure?'

'Yes.'

'Are you on any form of medication?'

'No. I take the occasional Aspirin and sometimes a painkiller for menstrual cramps, but that's it.'

'Did you drink during your pregnancy.'

Ginny hesitated. 'I had a glass of wine today,' she said. She glanced nervously at the doctor, but the latter remained unruffled.

'I see. Are you on any drugs?'

'No.'

'Any health problem we should know about? Heart, liver, anything?'

'Not that I know of.'

'Has this pregnancy been difficult?'

Ginny hesitated. 'What exactly do you mean by that?'

'Discomfort- pains- give me everything you've got,' said Dr McDonald, not raising her eyes from her notepaper. Hermione realized that it was a sort of comfort mechanism. It made Ginny less uneasy than having to answer a pair of shrewd, calculating eyes.

'Well, I've had a lot of morning sickness, and felt quite tired,' Ginny said, cautiously, 'That's about it. Does it matter?'

'No, but we need to have everything in order before we can proceed with the abortion. Would you like me to explain the procedure to you, Miss?'

'Yes,' Ginny whispered.

'Okay. I'm going to make you lie down, here-' she gestured towards a white metal bed with even whiter sheets, 'The process of the abortion is entirely magical- I'm going to use spells to first sever the baby's connection with your body, and then vanish it altogether. However, medical science is not that simple, so there are other matters to be taken care of.'

'Such as?'

'You're going to feel a rather sharp pain when the umbilical cord is severed. I'll use a mild spell, and give you a painkiller, but that's unavoidable. When the baby is vanished, your stomach is going to be misshapen for a bit, although I don't think that will be much of a problem for you because you hardly show at all. Don't worry about that. It'll go down in a bit, and I'll give you a quick prescription to help you along the way. Also, you'll feel a little weak, so I'm going to put you on a course for a week or so. No alcohol, cigarettes or drugs in that span.'

'Okay,' said Ginny. Her face was pale and set.

'Are we ready then?' asked Dr McDonald. 'Lie down on the bed, please.'

Ginny stood up, and Hermione saw her touch her stomach briefly as she reclined on the austere bed. It made her uneasy, but more because the touch wasn't one of fondness- it was more like a quick goodbye.

Dr McDonald handed Ginny a couple of pills and a glass of water, which she swallowed mechanically. She flipped back Ginny's dress, and Hermione saw how little Ginny showed- just the slightest bump. In that moment, it seemed to glow with a sudden burst of life.

'Would you like to know if it's a boy or a girl?' asked Dr McDonald.

Ginny said, 'No-No, I don't want to. Please, don't tell me.'

Later on, Hermione was shocked that it took her so long to break down.

* * *

**Author's Note: Wow. That was actually quite difficult to write. I've really admired Ginny's practicality about this all along, and thought I'd keep her stern and composed till the end, but I found I really couldn't.**

**And I know Sirius and Hermione haven't made up yet, but they will soon, I promise.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed (you know who you are) and to all those who haven't, the time is ripe to do so now.**

**=D**


	33. Allies and Inns

**CHAPTER 33**

Hermione scanned the moderately-lit room, her eyes streaming past groups of well-dressed middle class men and women, who had all donned their best silks and sprayed on their best imitation Chanel for their night out. The restaurant was surprisingly crowded forits obscure location, which was between a pair of ramshackle warehouses. It was obstinately mediocre, with wooden floors, bright yellow table napkins, and thick, gluttonous opera playing a bit too loudly in the background.

She caught sight of Roran White sitting in a corner of the room at a table for two, with his back to the wall. He had abandoned his janitor's uniform, and was wearing plain black robes, hunched over the table with a shifty expression on his face. A bottle of wine was brought to him, and he sipped nervously, glancing around every now and then. Adjusting the hem of her dress and wishing she'd had time to change after her sojourn in the broom closet, Hermione took a deep breath and approached the table.

Roran looked up as she approached, and didn't have enough time to hide a quick flash of relief that passed over his face. Hermione guessed that he had probably been uncertain whether she would come. She held out her hand, and said, uncertainly, 'Have you been waiting long?'

He shook his head. 'No. Sit down. I've got wine.'

His voice was brusque and not at the peak of civility. Hermione attributed his shortness to a combination of fear, and the fact that he hadn't enjoyed much human company in the last couple of months. She sat down and poured herself a glass of wine, trying to hold her hand steady. She took a sip and calmed herself.

'Start talking,' she said, quietly.

He held up a hand. 'Do you mind if I order and wait for the food to come? I don't want to be interrupted.'

Hermione nodded, and he called a waiter over, ordering two cold chicken salads.

'I'm vegetarian,' Hermione said, coldly. She suddenly remembered saying the same thing to Sirius in the exact same tone the day after they were married, in the Ministry cafeteria. She felt something clench in her stomach.

'I'd like- I'd like a Greek salad, please. Extra olives.'

The waiter scooted away, and Hermione and Roran continued to eyeball each other in the dim light. Hermione was feeling acutely uncomfortable, twisting her fingers in her lap and gnawing unattractively on her lower lip every now and then. A candle in a pretty engraved holder sat at their table, and it threw a flickering circle of light on Roran's face, which Hermione found herself studying closely. He had a broad brow, marred by two straight lines that ran horizontally across its centre, and thick wire-frame classes over a pair of soft gray eyes. His mouth was never still: he was constantly chewing at it, or nipping the corner, and Hermione could tell he was as uncomfortable as she was. It was a malleable mouth, and Hermione suddenly got the feeling that after years of knowing Roran White, one could only say that he was a nice guy and nothing else.

Their food was brought ceremoniously to them on imitation china with pink roses scattered over it. Hermione sifted through her salad with a fork: from what she could see, it had entirely too much lettuce and entirely too little olives. She wasn't in the mood to argue, though, so instead she turned wearily to Roran and said, ''Shoot.'

He shifted uncomfortably. 'Can I ask you to do the same?'

Hermione shook her head firmly. 'You're the person who kidnapped me. You're the person who brought me here. Now tell me why the hell you disappeared from home, and where the hell you've been since.'

Roran took a bite of his chicken. The food seemed to fortify him. He chewed, took a sip of wine, and said, 'You know, I spoke to your husband many months ago.'

Hermione blinked. She had known this, but she hadn't known that Roran was aware of her marital status.

'He knew my brother,' Roran said, simply, 'He knew something was wrong.'

Hermione cleared her throat. 'I'm- uh sorry to hear about your brother,' she said, diffidently.

Roran shook his head dismissively. 'Jack was a fool,' he said, although a trace wistfully, 'He didn't know what he was doing, and by the time he did it was too late. I was horrified when I found out he'd been killed. What was worse was the day I spoke to Black- I came back home, and I found that my house had been broken into.'

Hermione looked disbelieving. 'Broken into?'

'Yes. Some stuff had been moved around- little things, but enough to let me know someone had been in there. Besides, I found a little scrap of paper on the floor with an Apparition Portal specified on it. I don't know if you know about Amanda Houston-'

Hermione's eyes widened, and she grabbed at her handbag, flipping it open and rummaging about inside it. She pulled out the piece of paper they had filched from Roran's apartment and pushed it towards him. As always, she felt a niggling sense of insecurity and doubt as she glanced at it, as though she should be remembering and piecing together something that she really couldn't.

'Was this it?' she demanded, breathlessly.

He glanced at it and nodded.

'We thought it was yours!'

'It wasn't,' he said, shaking his head. 'It was just lying on the floor near my grate. When I saw it, I knew that someone was looking for me. I did the first thing I could. I quit my job at the Apparition Department, rustled up a bunch of fake papers and applied under a different name for a janitor post in the Ministry.'

Hermione looked disbelieving. 'You've been in the Ministry _all this time_?'

He shook his head. 'Sure. Why not? They're remarkably complacent about who gets into the Ministry, you know. Nobody looked at me twice.'

'Except me,' Hermione pointed out.

He gave a little smile. 'That's different. I've been trying to contact the Order for ages.'

Hermione blinked. 'You have?'

'Yes. You see, when I first went undercover, I decided to stay that way until things blew over. But it's been months now and nothing is happening. I figured the Order needs all the help it can get on this one.'

Hermione frowned. 'Are you at all well-informed about our actions?'

Roran shook his head, looking amused. 'Really not. I was hoping you could fill me in on that.'

Hermione snorted. 'I think the chances of that are quite unlikely,' she said, in as scathing a tone as she could manage. In truth, it was difficult to muster of hostility against Roran White. There was something eminently likable about him, about the earnest tilt of his smile and the naive- surely it couldn't be?- belief in his eyes.

He looked faintly amused. 'I thought you would say that. Care to explain?'

'You really want me to?' Hermione asked, incredulously. 'I thought it would have been obvious.'

'Humor me.'

'Well,' she said, ticking off each point on her fingers to emphasize herself, 'You can't be trusted. We know you were on intimate terms with Jenny White. The Order is a secretive institution- in its actions, at least, if not in its identity, and frankly, I know nothing about you except that you disappeared under rather strange circumstances and chose to kidnap you today.'

'I didn't kidnap you,' said Roran, taking a bite of chicken. His nervousness seemed to have evaporated. He looked remarkably self-poised. 'You were screaming my name out in the corridors of the Ministry, and I had to shut you up.'

'By _stunning_ me?'

'Call it reflex action. I've been trying to get in touch with you for ages.'

That threw Hermione off. She blinked. 'Really?'

'Sure. I told you I was trying to contact the Order. I knew you worked for the Ministry. My idea was to bump into you casually a few times, maybe develop a kind of friendship. I thought I'd take you out to dinner someplace and break it to you gently. I didn't think you'd ever recognize me. I had no idea that you'd seen my picture, you see.'

Hermione stared at him. She felt a sudden wave of affection for him, because he was naive enough to think it perfectly natural for her to go out to dinner with a janitor at the Ministry. There was something simplistic and sweet about it, something very- not Sirius. After a slight pause, she said, 'Where have you been living?'

'I'd prefer not to say. Not-' he added, quickly, seeing the expression on her face, 'Because I don't trust you and expect you to do so to me in return, but because it would be safer for both of us if you didn't know.'

Hermione looked uneasy. 'How did you know Jennifer Duchamps?' she asked, finally.

'Jack introduced her to me. This was before I knew about his involvement in this affair, I thought they were just friends.'

'Were you dating?'

Roran hesitated for a moment before answering. 'No,' he said, finally, 'But I was quite crazily in love with her for a while. We slept together a few times- normally after several drinks. Jennifer- Jenny wasn't the type you date, though. She didn't- she didn't have normal emotions, the way most people do. She was cold and ruthless.'

Hermione took a deep breath. 'Do you know what happened to her?'

He shook his head. 'You told me she was dead.'

'That's right. She died at Grimmauld Place. She was about to tell us about one of the individuals in the scam, but she couldn't. She choked up and died instead.'

Roran looked grim. 'I'm not very surprised. Jack had a suspicion that it had to do with this paper that all of them signed, a Secrecy Clause. He tried telling me the same thing once- the name of the leader of their group- and he started to choke. Luckily, he figured out what was going on and stopped.'

'Jennifer was under Veritsaerum,' said Hermione.

'That would explain it.'

Hermione lapsed into silence. Roran looked thoughtful for a moment, and then picked up a paper napkin next to his plate.

'Can I have a pen?' he asked.

Hermione handed him one. He scrawled something on the napkin and handed it back to her. She looked down and saw that it was his signature: _Roran White_, written in a thin, elongated print.

'There you go,' he said, quietly, 'But a Protean Charm on it, so that if I try to disclose any of the information you give me to a party outside the Order, I lose consciousness. You know you'll be able to trust me that way.'

Hermione looked wary. 'You seem sincere,' she said, cautiously.

'I am. My brother's dead and I'm forced to work as a janitor in the Ministry. I don't see how much more sincere you can get.'

Hermione nodded. She suddenly felt she understood him perfectly, and felt a wave of sympathy towards him. She pulled her wand out, thought for a moment about the spell she would be using, and then waved it over the napkin. His signature glowed a brilliant, azure blue for a moment, and then faded back to its original inky color.

'Alright,' she said, 'Now follow me.'

'Are we leaving?'

'That's right. I'm taking you to Order Headquarters.'

* * *

Sirius leaned back against his faded, moth-eaten pillow, and lolled into the comfortable lull of drunkenness. It was past ten, and the light behind the grimy windows of his room had faded to a brilliant orange, to dusky blue, and now to a pitch black. It comforted him strangely. The light had been to harsh, somehow, piercing into his room like a reminder of the outside world. Now, all he could see in the glass was the warm reflection of his room, a candle burning brightly with a distorted flame. It made him feel safe, closed in, as if Hermione and Lily and the rest of the world didn't exist, and it was just him and his drunkenness and the disjointed feeling he got when he looked at his own hands.

So far, he hadn't bothered to contemplate how long he was going to stay here. He hadn't thought to himself that he had no money with him and there would be hell to pay when he eventually did decide to check out, because that would be admitting to himself that something was wrong, and Hermione was angry with him, and that was something he didn't want. It was better to just lie like this, look at the shapes that leaking water had made in the plaster of the ceiling: a dog, a bow-shaped ribbon, a melon, something that looked like a ant-eater- no a lizard...

He was falling deeper into his drunken stupor, not passing out but on the cusp of doing so, when the door slammed open and banged against the opposite wall. It was a disconcerting feeling and Sirius wished it would go away. He was forced to open his eyes. Shapes swam blearily in front of him, something moving, something black, something gingery, a pair of stern, cold eyes.

This would not do. He could not understand anything. He would have to allow his ears access to his brain as well.

As soon as he concentrated on the shell-shaped lobes and tried to understand what they were hearing, the noise blasted into his head like a foghorn.

'-disgusted, Sirius! Of all the things to do! Everyone's been worried sick, you know!'

'Remus,' he muttered, blearily.

'You're damn right I am! You can't believe what I had to go through to find you! You- you're- Damn you, Sirius, you're fucking drunk!'

He giggled. It seemed funny. The next thing he knew, Remus's wand was pointed at his throat and he felt a flash of unease as he thought of Peter Pettigrew, of Voldemort, of all the things he didn't want to. But the next moment, Remus had muttered a quiet spell and he felt his drunkenness leave him, felt a cold splash of sobriety wash over him.

'Better?' asked Remus, coldly.

Sirius shook his head, searching for the drunkenness but not finding it. Instead, he found himself facing the icy demeanor of his best friend.

'How did you find me?'

'The bartender at the place near Hermione's apartment told me you headed to this part of the city. I checked another inn and found you hear.'

'Did Hermione tell you I left?'

'Hermione didn't tell me anything. I haven't seen her in the last two days.'

Sirius straightened up. 'Hasn't she come to Grimmauld Place?'

'I think she came to pick up Ginny in the evening. They went out to dinner someplace.'

Sirius couldn't believe his ears. 'They went out...for- dinner?'

'I think so. Molly mentioned something about how glad she was Ginny was getting out of the house finally. That's not the point. I figured something was wrong when you didn't drop in today, and sent an owl. When you didn't reply, I went to the pub and the bartender told you me you'd been damned pissed-off yesterday and stormed off. That's when I came here. You want to tell me what's wrong?'

'No,' said Sirius. He wanted a drink of water, but the jug was empty.

'Had a fight with Hermione, did you?'

'Perceptive as always, Lupin,' he muttered. 'I could kill for a drink.'

'I think you've had quite enough already. Besides-'

'I meant water, Remus.'

Remus rolled his eyes, grabbed the jug and pointed its wand at it. He handed it back to Sirius who drank the water in large, thirsty gulps. When he was done, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

'What's wrong, Sirius?' Remus asked, gently.

'Hermione and I had a slight misunderstanding. It's not a big deal. I just wanted some time alone.'

Remus nodded silently. He had seen this happen before: Sirius suddenly fill with a cold, desperate anger over some insignificant matter, and do a vanishing act for a few days. It worried him, but he knew it was not a topic for discussion.'

'Do you want to come back?' he asked, gently. 'You can come to Grimmauld Place and have dinner. Molly must have rustled up something good.'

Sirius thought about it for a moment, and nodded. 'I think I'll come.'

* * *

**Author's Note: And another one. The stuff kind of just flows after a point, if you know what I mean? =D**

**I know a lot of people were sort of hoping that Ginny wouldn't go through with the abortion, and so did I really, on some level, but that just wouldn't have fit, you know? It makes no sense for Ginny to have a child in the midst of all this. She has her whole life ahead of her, and I think it's great that she wants to live it to the best she could, even though I don't think I'd have the courage she does to make such a decision under the circumstances.**

**And yes, I know Hermione and Sirius _still_ haven't made up, but they will soon.**

**Happy reading!**

**PS- Review?  
**


	34. Ashtrays and Secrets

**CHAPTER 34**

Hermione hesitated for a long moment, Roran White's rough, dry paw clutched firmly in her own hand, their fingers bumping against each others, before she Apparated them both. She was hideously nervous about what she was about to do. Despite the fact that Grimmauld Place had never been truly a home to her, there was something sacred she associated with it, a haven that ought to remain untouched by anyone outside their immediate group. She couldn't help but remember the last time she had admitted someone unwillingly into it- in their Seventh year, when Yaxley had grabbed hold of her just as she apparated. At the same moment, she remembered Sirius floating Jennifer Duchamps' unconscious body into the foyer room.

She snuck a sideways glance at Roran, who was waiting patiently and watching her with an expression somewhere between anticipation and anxiety. When he saw her face him, his mouth relaxed, and his eyes flashed comfortingly.

_You can trust me_, they seemed to say.

Making up her mind and taking a deep breath, Hermione apparated. She closed her eyes against the rush of wind in her ears and the simultaneous crush of her lungs. Gasping slightly, she opened them to the front door of Grimmauld Place. She had apparated them both precisely onto the top step.

Roran released the breath he had been holding.

'Is this it?' he asked, 'Order Headquarters?'

She nodded. She felt a little reckless, and at the same time insured by the napkin in her pocket. 'This house used to belong to the Blacks,' she said, 'Sirius inherited it.'

Roran nodded, looking thoughtfully up at the dull gray facade and the heavily shuttered windows. 'Looks gloomy.'

'Trust me it is. Come on, now. We might as well get this over with.'

An anxious expression crossed his face again as Hermione pushed open the front door and stepped inside. The foyer was dark, the kitchen door closed. A dim light was glowing under its rim, and she could hear dull voices from inside. Biting her lip, she turned the knob and peaked inside. The first thing her gaze fell on was Sirius. He was slumped against the table, his knuckles cupped within each other. He looked like living hell: dark circles under his eyes, and his hair a huge mess. Remus stood above him, one hand on the latter's shoulder, and Molly, Arthur and Moody clustered around the table.

'-need to eat more!' Molly was saying. 'You'll turn into a stick one day, Sirius. Isn't Hermione feeding you well?'

Hermione pushed the door open and said, 'I think Sirius does most of the feeding. Where the hell have you been?'

The last question was addressed directly to Sirius, who had sat up ramrod straight when she entered. A strange expression had crossed his face: something that mixed relief, worry, nervousness and wistfulness in equal proportions.

'I was- around...' he said, evasively.

'Brilliant,' said Hermione, coldly, 'I want you to meet someone.'

She stepped forward, and Roran White entered the room after her.

* * *

Sitting on a rickety chair in his old room at Grimmauld Place an hour later, Sirius didn't know how to describe the feeling in his throat when he heard Hermione's voice.

The foremost part of his mind, the part that had immersed itself in the life he shared with Hermione, was filled with relief. It was lovely to see her face again, after the night of drunkenness and tossing and turning with agony. It was like sinking into a warm bath after a long sojourn in the snow; something like coming home.

But there was another part of him that was filled with- was it disappointment?

It took a moment for Sirius to dissect the emotion, to try and understand it on his own terms. Last night, he realized, he had abandoned himself to all the miseries of his past that he had kept locked away for so long. It had been difficult cutting himself off from them the first time. There was a small part of him, he realized, that simply wanted to remain in that fantasy: the time when his pain was so wholesome and thick and gluttonous, filling every part of his mind like a poison. It was a massive relief to abandon himself to the pain, to remove the barriers he had put up against it all these years so it only pounded against them once in a while. But Hermione, he realized, was his anchor to the present: his anchor to life. Coming face to face with her meant battling all those wounds once again, because the need to be with her was strong enough to thrash indulgence.

He sighed and groped about in his pocket for a pack, lighting a cigarette and inhaling in a desperate rush. He tilted his chair back on two legs and let his head thump against the wall, coming very close to enjoying the wave of pain that spread out from his crown. He heard the low rush of voices from downstairs. Nearly everyone was clustered around the table, talking in high-pitched, feverish voices. Sirius had left somewhere in the middle, a sick wave of disgust spreading through his stomach. Although Roran had greeted him civilly, and with a trace of nostalgia, as though he were an old friend, all he had noticed was the way the other man hung around Hermione's shoulder, how the two of them exchanged reassuring glances. When Roran had sat down to a steaming cup of tea, Hermione had sat next to him. At one point, when Roran was talking about his brother, she had reached across the table and gently squeezed his hand.

At which point Sirius had got up and left.

He hadn't meant for his exit to be dramatic. He just couldn't sit in there any longer. He had stormed up to his old room, kicked aside a few vole ribs that were left over from Buckbeak's brief stay, and stewed in his own sea of self-pity. He took another drag of the cigarette, and winced as he heard the low gurgle of laughter from downstairs. He'd never felt this antisocial before: in his own home, nonetheless.

All of a sudden, he knew whom he wanted to talk to.

He traipsed down the darkened corridor, and stopped in front of a dark wood door with a shiny bronze knocker on it. He put his hand on the doorknob, and then hesitated and knocked.

'As if I can stop you from coming in,' a dry, scathing voice said from inside, 'Be quick about it.'

He pushed open the door and glanced in. Mrs Prattle was seated at the window, dressed in a long mauve dressing gown with a pale green woolen cap on her head. Her face was angled suspiciously towards him, and he could see the deep lines that had etched themselves into the skin under her steel-gray eyes. She was in the process of winding a ball of frosty pink wool, and had wrapped the strands expertly around her wrinkled fingers. When she saw Sirius, her mouth remained set in a firm line, but her eyes relaxed a little.

'Oh, it's you,' she said, 'I haven't been delivered such a terrible looking face in a long time.'

'I missed you too,' Sirius muttered, irritably. He kicked the door shut behind him and traipsed into the room. 'How have you been?'

Mrs Prattle glanced down at her wool. 'Shockingly, strange and unexpected events don't take place when you're stuck inside a little room. Your red-headed mistress brings meals up thrice a day, plus watery tea and biscuits at four. The little girl spends a lot of time crying, she's in trouble if you ask me. Ginger tries to be polite but winces every time I talk to him. Why are you here, Black?'

He shrugged and sat down a rocking chair beside the bed. It was upholstered in salmon-colored silk with pale gold threads running through it.

'Just wanted to check up on you.'

'Someone's feeling antisocial.'

_Damn right, _Sirius wanted to say.

He lapsed into silence for a while, watching Mrs Prattle wind the wool competently. It had been a while since he saw her, and he began to notice subtle differences. For starters, she was beginning to look a little healthier. He supposed the three meals and watery tea that Molly brought up thrice a day was beginning to do her some good.

'You're looking fatter,' he said.

She chuckled. 'If I were younger, I'd be insulted. Don't you know how to talk to women, Black?'

'Only the pretty ones,' he clarified.

'Insulting as always. How on Earth do you talk to your wife?'

Sirius blinked. 'Are you saying Hermione's not pretty?'

She raised her eyes heavenward. 'Men,' she said, with a long-suffering sigh, 'I don't approve of girls with curly hair. They'd sleep with anyone.'

'Which I'm expressly thankful for,' Sirius said, coldly. 'Being locked up here hasn't done much to sweeten your wonderful tongue, has it?'

She chucked dryly. 'Don't look so anxious, Black. I _can _see that anxious expression under your ineffective sarcasm. You're wondering whether I've come to terms with being a prisoner in the Most Noble House of Black, aren't you?'

'I-'

'Oh, shut up. I'm not an idiot, you hoodlum. I know better than to go traipsing back to my old flat and get murdered.'

Sirius glanced about the room. Sure enough, Mrs Prattle seemed to have settled down in it. She had sent Arthur back to her flat once the hullabaloo of Carla's death had subsided, and he had picked up some of stuff which she had proceeded to adorn the room with. Sirius grinned as he pictured the strange arrangement of ornaments, wondering how his mother would react if she saw pink and blue silk Jaipuri cushions on her Regency bedspreads, her Edwardian chintz curtains tied back with magenta ribbons that looked like they'd been bought in a thrift shop, and her expensive Ming vase stuffed with fake flowers that were made with puffs of silver sequins. The mantelpiece was especially charming, sporting an eclectic motley of stuff: a china angel in a pale pink gown that had belonged to his aunt, a plastic cupid whose mouth was bent in an obscene pucker, a fine porcelain tea pot, with a pale pink sheen and thin golden stripes across its gently shaped lip, which had been passed down generations of Blacks and an ashtray. The ashtray looked like it had been molded clumsily of clay and hand painted with a lady's finger cutting. It was dark blue, with red and yellow flower-shaped patterns spread across it. Part of its rim was chipped and he could see the moldy color of the clay inside. He crossed to the mantelpiece and picked it up: it was heavy and cool in his palm. He turned it over, and saw that a message had been inscribed on the bottom with a compass needle or some other sharp object when the clay was still damp.

_To Miss Eva, from Gerry_

He stared at the message for a long time, and then turned to see Mrs Prattle facing him. There was an indescribable expression on her face.

'Who's Gerry?' he asked.

She said, 'A student of mine.'

Sirius blinked. 'You were a teacher?'

'I taught finger painting at a kindergarten school,' she said, thickly. She was silent for a moment, and said, 'Gerry was very good at it. I have a few of his paintings at home.'

Sirius gently traced the pattern of the message with his index finger.

'Your name is Eva?'

She chuckled, dryly. 'You didn't think I had a first name, did you?'

Sirius shook his head with a smile. 'Was he one of your favorites?'

'Oh, he was brilliant,' said Mrs Prattle, the corners of her mouth tilting up slightly, 'I was very fond of him.' She was silent for a moment, and then said, 'He died when he was seven.'

Sirius's head jerked upright. Mrs Prattle's face had mellowed slightly. She looked nostalgic.

'I'm sorry,' he said.

'You didn't do it.'

'What happened?'

She shrugged, and there was something oddly helpless about the gesture. Sirius could tell she had really loved the boy.

'Nobody knows,' she said, quietly, 'He went missing for a long time, and then weeks later his body was found floating in the Thames.'

Sirius felt something cold clench inside him. He glanced back down at the childish writing on the bottom of the ashtray.

'His parents must have been devastated,' he said.

Mrs Prattle was silent for a long time. Looking at her, Sirius realized that despite everything she had been through, this was the first time he had seen her looking entirely tortured.

'He didn't have any,' she said, finally. 'His parents died when he was very young. His aunt took care of him- his mother's sister. She was a very dear friend of mine.'

'It must have been terrible for her.'

'It was,' she said, 'But she was spared too much pain because she died a few months later. Her name was Faye Melloney.'

* * *

Hermione pushed open the door to Sirius's room, and glanced inside. She didn't know why she had been so sure that Sirius would be here. She had debated whether or not to follow him after he left, but had chosen to stay in the kitchen: she felt strangely responsible for Roran, and didn't want to leave him alone, although Molly had instantly taken him under her wind, bringing him cups of tea and breakfast food. He had thickly told them his story through mouthfuls of creamy scrambled eggs, and then Molly had cleaned up one of the spare rooms for him, turning down the bed and stocking it with a jug of water and biscuits.

'You'll have to stay here,' she said, firmly, 'It's not safe for you back in the Ministry, and there isn't a soft bed or hot food to be found there.'

He had smiled sheepishly, but gratefully, and followed her up the stairs. Hermione had turned off at the landing, and headed to the room in which Buckbeak had once been kept. When she pushed open the door, though, she found it disappointingly empty: apart from a few vole bones, and a smoking cigarette butt on the floor, there was no sign of in-habitation. She sighed, and was about to shut the door when she heard his voice.

'Where have you been?'

She turned and saw him standing behind her, his body listing to one side slightly as though he was very tired. His face and jeans looked beaten up, the sleeve of his white shirt marked with dirty creases where he had rubbed it over his face. His expression as he looked at her was anticipatory and somewhat apologetic at the same time.

She swallowed. 'I was looking for you.'

'Nice intuition. I was in there till five minutes back.'

Hermione nodded. 'I figured. The cigarette.'

He smiled slightly, a lopsided, hesitant smile, and then gestured. 'Shall we go in? I think we need to talk.'

Hermione nodded slightly and headed back into his old room. Sirius followed, kicking the vole bone out of the way and shutting the door behind him. He turned and found her sitting on the chair he had been on before. He dragged a stool over to the corner of the room and seated himself.

'So,' he said.

'So,' Hermione agreed.

'That was some fight.'

Hermione nodded, a little ruefully. 'Our first one. I suppose we should have expected one at some point or the other.'

He laughed, and then sobered down. 'Before anything else, I need you to know I'm sorry for how I behaved yesterday. I didn't mean to question your priorities at all. It was stupid, really.'

Hermione nodded, grimly. 'I didn't think that was what the problem was.'

'You're right.'

'It was something else, wasn't it?' Hermione asked. 'It was because- it was because you knew I was hiding something from you.'

Sirius inhaled deeply and slumped back against the wall. He was quiet for a moment, and then said, 'Yes. I suppose I took it for granted that you would tell me stuff.'

'Tell you stuff?' Hermione blinked. 'Sirius, of course I tell you stuff! I tell you stuff about me I haven't told anyone else, and that's because I love and trust you. But you have to understand that our lives aren't entirely dependent on each other. I'll always have my own secrets, and you'll always have yours. I don't- I don't expect you to tell me everything, do I?'

'I suppose not,' Sirius said, gruffly.

She leaned forward, and took both his hands into her own. 'You're okay with this, aren't you?'

He nodded.

'So we're fine.'

He nodded again.

'Great,' said Hermione, and a look of intense relief crossed her face. 'You had me so worried. Do you want to tell me where you were last night? I can understand if you don't. Oh, okay. We should probably get going, then, and-'

'Wait.'

Sirius's hand tightened on hers as she made to get up, and pulled her back to her seat. She sat, glancing at him with a puzzled expression.

'I know you want to have your secrets,' he said, gravely, 'But there's a secret of mine that I want you to know, and I think it's time to tell you.'

* * *

**Author's Note: Apparently, I'm a secret sucker for cliffies, and it's only coming out now.**

**This may seem out of the blue, but it isn't, I swear. If you skim back you'll find little hints that Sirius had a big-bad-secret he wasn't telling anyone.**

**It's horrible, but it's true.**

**Sigh.**

**Review?  
**


	35. Bones and Strategies

**CHAPTER 35**

Hermione blinked.

'Something serious?' she asked. She was thrown off balance enough to not add a witty comment about the puns she had or hadn't intended.

Sirius nodded, slowly. 'Yes,' he said, 'It's something I haven't told anyone, not even Remus.'

Hermione was quiet for a moment. Then, she linked her fingers together on her lap.

'Is it- is it something about the Potters?' she asked, quietly.

Sirius looked up in surprise. 'How did you guess?'

She shrugged, and there was something oddly helpless about the gesture. 'I just- I've noticed,' she said, blandly, 'You get strange when the name comes up. And I don't think it's just grieving over their death, either. It's something different, something strangely possessive. I-' she hesitated, and then threw herself recklessly forward, 'You know, Sirius, whenever I think about our relationship, I try to think that the differences in our age is a good thing: that it means you have a grounding force and a maturity that I can depend on and trust. But sometimes, it just worries me how little I know about your life before I came into it. It's just that I think of you as a completely different person before we hooked up, you know. You were _Sirius Black_ at that time, someone who was dark and mysterious and obviously had a lot of secrets. And now that we're together, and we love each other, it's a little strange to think of what a large chunk of your life I have no clue about. I'm not saying,' she added, hurriedly, 'That I want you to tell me everything. I know that's not fair. It just makes me feel- strange, sometimes.'

She had expected him to be reassuring. He was normally so good at making her feel better, cupping her shoulders with his large hands and kissing the side of her head. But now she saw his expression twist, morph into something that looked like agony. She blinked in shock.

'Are you- are you alright?'

'No,' Sirius rasped, 'God. I need to tell you this, Hermione. Before you say anything else.'

She leaned forward, reached out and grasped his hand with hers, balancing the point of her chin on her other one.

'Tell me,' she said.

Sirius inhaled shakily.

'When we were in our sixth year,' he said, and Hermione saw a mist of nostalgia creep over his face, 'Well, it was pretty much the best time of my life, I suppose. I was so excited to be back at Hogwarts, happy to leave home. Remus, James and Peter were my best friends in the whole world, and I think it's at that period that I started to realize it the most. That was the time when James was- James was crazy about Lily.'

His voice caught for a moment, and then he continued. 'We had this big party one night- it was James's birthday, and we had just won the Quidditch Cup. We sneaked into Hogsmeade and brought back lots of Firewhisky. By midnight, everyone was so drunk they were rolling about on the floor.'

He leaned back and sighed, as Hermione watched him curiously. She had never seen him so upset about a party that involved lots of booze.

'We carried James back to his bed,' Sirius said, a new heaviness settling into his voice, 'And then I went back down to the Common Room to smoke a joint. Lily headed down there: she had refused to join the party, she was still really pissed with James at that time. She scolded me for a bit, about the mess and the joint I was smoking, and both of us said some mean things, and we were just working up into a huge fight- sort of like the one we had yesterday. Next thing I knew, Lily was drinking too, and then we were kissing. I don't remember much because I was too stoned, but we woke up naked the next morning- on the couch.'

Hermione inhaled sharply, and dropped its hand like a hot rock. She pushed herself back in her chair, feeling the wooden bands cut into her shoulder blades. Her eyes had widened, but Sirius was continuing in the same dull intonation he had been using so far.

'We were lucky we woke early. We got up and put on our clothes quickly, and both of us had this sort of unspoken agreement that we wouldn't talk about it.' He seemed oblivious to the fact that Hermione was staring at him with a horrified expression on her face. She could feel a chill steal through her body: a chill that forcefully reminded her of his secrecy.

'Li-Lily Potter?' she stammered.

Sirius closed his eyes with a pained expression. 'She wasn't that, yet,' he mumbled, 'It was a mistake. I swore it would never happened again. You see- I loved James...'

As Hermione looked at him, she suddenly understood the full force of his pain. She could see it in the tense hunch of his shoulders, the twisted line of his mouth. Yes, Sirius had loved James. And he had betrayed him: he had slept with the girl he'd loved. She realized what it would have taken to keep this secret, from Remus, from James, and after everything they'd been through-

She reached out and touched his arm. She didn't want to comfort him: somewhere under her horror was a deep-seated anger and jealousy.

But above that was love, and she couldn't see him like this.

'It's okay, Sirius,' she whispered, 'It's okay, I'm glad you told-'

'I've not finished,' Sirius said, quietly. Hermione recoiled, eyes wide. 'There's more.'

'What?' It was an effort just to keep her voice steady.

Sirius exhaled deeply, and his body seemed to deflate.

'When James and Lily were hiding- after Harry had been born, in Godric's Hollow,' he began, and Hermione thought she was going to faint then and there.

'Af-after they were married?' she stammered.

He shook his head vigorously. 'It wasn't like that,' he said, urgently, 'We had put that night in the Common Room behind us. We were friends. I used to spend time with Lily when James was off on Order work, help her take care of Harry. We used to cook together. Lily loved fried chicken, and we used to make big plates of it and sit and joke about how stupid we were in school. Do you understand? We weren't trying to start anything up again. But then- then the war started becoming worse, and I started becoming more and more angry, and Lily was so frightened. And one day- I don't know how it happened, we were both crying and I was holding her- Harry was in his high chair the whole time...'

No, Hermione was saying, repeatedly to herself. No, this can't be true.

'I- I know how it looks,' Sirius said, dully. He refused to meet her eye. 'It wasn't like that. It wasn't about the sex. We were just comforting each other. I loved Lily, you see, but like a friend. Not the way James-'

He broke off, and a shattered expression crossed his face.

And suddenly, Hermione felt she understood. Not entirely, of course. The concept, the thought of Sirius and Lily disturbed her far more than she would admit to herself. But at that moment, she only saw the expression on his face. She only saw the pain, and she thought of the huge, dirty secret he had kept for so long from his best friends. She thought of the feeling of guilt he had had to bear all these years, might even bear his entire life. She saw what it must have been for him, seeing the Potters dead, seeing Lily with her fiery hair splayed across the floor, knowing it was his fault. She thought of all those years in Azkaban that she had never been able to relate with him, all the times he must have wanted to kill himself from guilt and hurt.

As she was thinking these things, Sirius looked up. His eyes were wet with tears, and she could see fear and worry in them. He expected her to lash out at him, to beat him, maybe even leave him.

She reached out, and she hugged him.

* * *

'Tomorrow,' Remus said, firmly, 'We're going in tomorrow.'

Moody growled. 'It's too soon,' he snapped, 'You're being a fool! We haven't even inspected two of the portals, and-'

'Don't. You. Understand?' Remus asked, flinging down the blueprints he had been poring over. His eyes, normally warm and calm, were filled with a furious energy. 'Alastor, we've been procrastinating for too long! Every moment we spend debating what to do is another soldier in their army, another weapon in their artillery. We're becoming increasingly bureaucratic, and they're becoming stronger!'

The members of the table sat in a stony silence. Arthur was running a hand through his hair, his other hand wrapped tightly around the fingers of his wife. Charlie looked grim, but Remus knew from the determined flash in his eye that he was on his side. Roran White was looking confused, and Remus couldn't blame him. The man had been through hell.

'Alastor,' Arthur said, cautiously, 'I think Remus is right. Besides, it's not like we're doing anything drastic. We're just going to put in the cameras.'

'Not anything drastic?' Moody choked. 'We're going in there, that's drastic enough.'

Charlie shook his head. 'We can't delay this anymore,' he said, regretfully, 'Harry and the others will be attacking the renegade group in Bucharest soon, and we need to make sure there's no headquarters for them to come back to by that time. Besides, if we put in the cameras tomorrow, we're going to need three of four weeks more for surveillance. Going by that, I think we should target an attack around the first or second of January.'

Remus cocked an eyebrow. 'That late?'

Charlie sighed. 'Remus, I'm with you on this one, but let's not push it. We need to come up with a strategy before we attack. This isn't something we've done before; we won't be on the defensive this time.'

Remus inclined his head. 'You're right,' he conceded, 'That's all the more reason to get the camera thing over with tomorrow, though. Fred and George have perfected the illusion power. We can split up into groups of two and get it done with.'

Moody growled. 'This whole thing sounds like a disaster. What about him?'

He pointed a gnarled finger towards Roran, who visibly blanched. He didn't seem to be able to get over the revolving eye.

'Roran,' Remus said, gently, 'Do you know anything that might help us?'

Roran shook his head regretfully. 'Jack didn't tell me much,' he whispered, 'And Jenny was much too secretive. You know much more than I do.'

Moody coughed in a manner that reminded one of the word useless.

'What about Sirius and Hermione?' Charlie asked. 'They're in on this, aren't they?'

Remus nodded. 'I think they can cover Deborah Arkwright's salon. Hermione could pass off as one of her customers.'

Charlie grinned. 'Yup, with that head of hair she looks like she needs a trip to the parlor. What about the others?'

'I'll take the library,' Remus said, 'Tonks can come with me. Charlie, you can go with Shacklebolt to the theatre. He's already scoured it once, so he has an idea of the lay out.'

Charlie nodded. 'And the Ministry?' he asked.

Remus frowned. 'I think we can ask Fred and George if they'll cover that. I don't want Hermione or Sirius going near that place again.'

'I'll go with them,' Moody said, gruffly, 'I don't trust those boys two knuts. They'll lose their heads if they see a pretty girl anywhere around.'

* * *

Ten minutes, neither of them had moved. Hermione still had her arms wrapped around Sirius, and he still had his laid down gently on her shoulder. It was only when the pressure had become too much and she felt her arms throb with pins and needles that Hermione stirred. Instinctively, Sirius sat upright.

'How are you feeling?' she asked, gently.

He managed a watery smile. His hand came up to her cheek and he stroked the pad of his thumb across her soft skin.

'I could ask you the same question,' he said, gently.

Hermione racked her brains, trying to find the emotions she knew she ought to be feeling- anger, jealousy, hurt. They were there, somewhere, deep below. But layered over that was-

'Relief,' she said, quietly, and Sirius started.

'What?'

'You heard me. I'm glad you told me. I don't like feeling cut off from your life.'

Sirius stared at her.

'Hermione- the bomb I just dropped-'

'I'm not saying I'm completely alright with it,' she interrupted. 'I don't know if I'll ever be. Harry's just too close to me, Sirius- it's- it's strange to even consider- that. But I can try and understand, can't I? Either way, I'm glad we've put that behind us.'

Sirius made a noise that was halfway between a choked sob and a laugh, and reaching out he dragged her towards him. Hermione leaned willingly into his warm embrace, feeling the solid weight of his chest between them, and wrapped her arms around her neck as he squeezed tightly.

'You,' he breathed, in her ear, 'Are amazing.'

'You make me that way,' she murmured.

He kissed her earlobe. 'Let's not be the way we were last night again,' he said, softly, 'If there's one thing I learnt from it, is that you're too important for me to lose.'

'You won't,' Hermione replied, softly, and seeking out his mouth she kissed him desperately, all the pent up emotion from the aftermath of their fight ebbing into. Sirius responded, feverishly sliding the flat part of his tongue against her lower lip, locking her mouth in a sensuous battle that tasted of his tears. He moved sinuously, his hands stroking their way up and down her back, smoothening the skin over her shoulder blades, stroking the occasional rib. She gasped into his mouth, and broke the kiss.

'What happened?' he murmured.

She smiled weakly. 'I think that was coming dangerously close to sex, and I don't really feel up to it in a room filled with rat bones,' she whispered back, and broke into a giggle.

Sirius grinned as he nuzzled her nose with his own. 'Shall we go back home, then?' he asked.

* * *

**Author's Note: Okay, obnoxiously short, I know, but I PROMISE the next one will be longer. And quicker. I had a massive case of writer's block, but it's gone now, so yay.**

**Please review?**

**=D**


	36. Tackboards and Syringes

**CHAPTER 36**

'Why did you leave the kitchen earlier on?' Hermione asked idly, as she stroked the sensitive skin on the inside of Sirius's upper arm.

They were curled up in bed, the rose-printed eiderdown pulled snugly between both of them. Hermione had wanted to stay naked with him, to feel the warmth of his skin press against hers and the imprint of his ribs against her stomach, but the radiator in her building had broken down and it was much too cold. So, unromantic though it was, she was wearing a thick sweater and leggings under her pajamas and fluffy yellow socks. Sirius was similarly attired in a gray sweatshirt. He had pulled her into his arms right after they had got their woolens on, and was running the tip of his nose up and down the back of her neck.

'You squeezed White's hand,' he murmured in reply. Her hair smelled nice, he thought. Like freesias.

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned around in bed so that she was facing him. 'Jealous? I wouldn't have thought it.'

'More like sick,' Sirius admitted, 'I have a lot of alcohol in my system right now, despite a rather disgusting sobering charm.'

Hermione cocked an eyebrow. 'Where exactly did you go?'

He kissed her cheek before replying.

'A motel. With an adjoining bar. With lots of whiskey. You know the drill.'

She sighed. 'Of course. _Angered and betrayed, the young man went with throbbing heart to the nearest liquor joint and drowned his sorrows._ I get the drift. Who brought you back?'

Sirius made a face. 'Remus,' he said, 'I got quite the lecture.'

'Well, I'm glad. At least you came back home.' she said, quietly. She shifted in his arms and snuggled a bit closer under the blanket. It was only after a few minutes that she spoke again.

'Where did you go after you left the kitchen?'

Sirius made a non-committal noise. 'My old room, and then I popped in on Prattle.'

Hermione brightened. 'Oh! How is she?'

Sirius grinned. 'Acerbic as ever. She called me a hoodlum again. She seems to be doing just fine, though. She's brought a whole bunch of her stuff from home. Hey- did you know she used to be a teacher?'

Hermione blinked. 'Really?'

'Yup. She taught kindergarten finger-painting. She had an ashtray on her mantelpiece that one of her students gifted her.'

Sirius voice sobered down as he continued, 'She said he was one of her favorite students. His name was Gerry. He died when he was younger.'

Hermione's eyes widened. 'That's awful. What happened?'

'Went missing. He was an orphan, apparently. She told me he lived with his aunt. She had some sort of wispy name. Sounded like lemonade.'

Hermione snorted with laughter and then punched him. 'Stop being an idiot,' she muttered, kissing his cheek. 'She must have been devastated.'

'Couldn't have been too bad, she died soon after. What was that name?'

'Never mind,' Hermione said, untangling one arm from around him and putting her hand over his mouth. 'I'm exhausted. Let's get some sleep.'

She had rolled over and was about to settle down when a loud pop informed them that someone had apparated into their dining room.

Quick as a flash, both Sirius and Hermione were out of bed and had grabbed their wands off her bedside table. Sirius motioned for her to be quiet, and she rolled her eyes as he inched towards the door. He hesitated for a moment, and then clicked it open and stepped out, wand held at ready.

'It's just me!' Hermione lowered her wand as she heard Remus's voice, and groaned, thanking her lucky stars that she was at least clothed this time. Sirius dropped his wand and both of them headed out to see him dressed in his day robes and looking indignant.

'Don't point that thing at me, Sirius Black! Where the hell did you two disappear?'

Hermione pushed past Sirius. 'We were tired,' she informed him.

Remus ran his eyes over both of them as if he knew exactly what they had come to do.

'Clothed,' he said, thankfully, 'Makes for a nice change. Next time your hormones get the better of you, at least pop back to Grimmauld Place when you're done?'

'Why?' Sirius demanded. He looked intensely annoyed, and Hermione knew that he was as tired as she felt. 'What's going on?'

Remus glanced around. 'Any chance I could get a cup of coffee or something? No? Oh, okay. I just popped in to tell you that we're going in to enable to cameras tomorrow.'

Hermione's eyes widened. 'So soon?'

'Yep. We figured that waiting doesn't make any sense. Besides, we're going to have to hang on another three weeks after this. They're just getting stronger all the while,' Remus said.

Sirius looked concerned. 'Are we splitting up?' he asked.

'Yeah. We want to get in done on one day. There's less of a chance of alerting them that way. Fred and George have the powder ready, so we're good to go. Hermione, we figured you and Sirius should take the parlor. You can book an appointment and actually go as a customer.'

Hermione nodded. 'Wouldn't it make more sense for us to take the portal at the Marriage Registrar, though?' she asked. 'I've been there before, I'm more familiar with it.'

Remus shook his head regretfully. 'It doesn't make sense for you to go down there again. You're too much of a familiar face. Besides, you work in the Ministry, Hermione. That's not a risk you want to take.'

'I see. What about the others?'

'The twins are going to the Ministry, and Tonks and I are going to the library. Kingsley and Charlie will take care of the theater.'

Hermione nodded, slowly. She could feel tension, hot and anticipatory, curling in the pit of her stomach.

'Okay,' she said, 'So how are we dealing with this tomorrow?'

'You don't have to work, do you?'

'It's Friday, Remus. Of course I have work.'

'Well, can you call a day off?'

Hermione thought about this for a moment.

'Yes,' she said, finally, 'I'll go in and tell them my husband is going to Mungo's, or something. Where do we meet?'

'Grimmauld Place, at ten,' said Remus, 'We'll distribute the powder then and head out.'

Sirius stepped forward, and took Hermione's hand tightly with his own.

'Okay,' he said, 'We'll be there.'

* * *

Predictably, Hermione woke the next day with a piercing headache.

She moaned and shifted in bed, feeling the cold sheets slip between her legs. Sirius's arm was tucked possessively around her stomach, and she had to work a bit to get it off her. He grumbled something in his sleep as he shifted, and she was reminded powerfully of the moment, just seconds before she fell asleep, when he had leaned into her and whispered feverishly in her ear, 'Harry must never know.'

She hadn't replied.

Now, she sat up in bed and then leaned over and kissed his cheek. He mumbled something and turned over.

'You need to wake up,' she whispered, 'We have to be at Grimmauld Place at ten. I'm checking in at the Ministry before that and telling them I won't be in today.'

Sirius turned over. 'Five minutes,' he muttered.

Hermione rolled her eyes and set the alarm to it's highest volume, placing it carefully on her chest of drawers so he would have to get out of bed to put it off. She showered quickly, letting the warm water soothe her knotted muscles, and then popped a couple of aspirins while drying her hair. She dressed comfortably in black woolen pants and a warm white sweater, and drained a cup of coffee before stepping out of the house. She felt better the minute she was on the street: the air invigorated her, and the pills were already kicking in and lessening the ache in her temples. When she got to the Ministry, she found Rachel perched behind her desk.

'Is Kaploffe in?' she asked.

Rachel shook her head, draining the last of her coffee. 'He'll be in late today. He left a message for you.'

Hermione groaned. 'Please don't tell me he's given me another assignment. I wanted to ask if I could take the day off!'

'No, he just said that he left a binder of notes on the Insanity Pledge in his office for you. He needs the report next week, so you really can skip if you want to. Got any big plans for today?"

'Sirius got some bug, so I'm just taking him to Mungo's. I'll pick up the binder and leave than, shall I?'

Rachel nodded, so she went to Kaploffe's office and cautiously pushed the door open. It was dark and slightly musty, and she fumbled about on the wall till she flicked a switch. Soft, yellow light filled the room, and she caught sight of an orange binder on his desk.

Hermione picked up the binder, marveling at how heavy it was. She was about to leave, when something caught her eye. On the tack boars behind his desk, hidden among lists and record papers, was a small hint of color. Frowning, Hermione walked forward and nudged a few papers out of the way, before she saw that it was a small picture.

It appeared to be a group picture as some department party. She recognized Kaploffe, looking much younger with a less lined face and jet-black hair. He was standing with a tall, sandy-haired man who she recognized at the ex-Chief of the Auror Department, and a small, skinny girl. The girl had a pale face, an upturned nose, and somewhat sad brown eyes. She had mousy brown hair, curly, but lankier than Hermione's. There was something awkward in the way she stood. Kaploffe's face was turned to the camera but his eyes had sidled towards her, and he had his arm around her thin shoulders in a way that indicated familiarity.

Underneath the picture was a small caption: _Evans Underwood, Dragomir Kaploffe and Faye Melloney._

For an instant, Hermione thought someone had kicked her in the gut.

There was something so painstakingly innocent and naive about the girl that she immediately felt her heart go out to her. She was looking vaguely uncomfortable with Kaploffe's arm around her shoulder, but her face was angled ever so slightly towards him and Hermione could detect the hero-worship in her eyes. There was no mistaking the expression on her boss's face either: there was definitely something there. She sighed and hugged the binder closer to her, wishing, for the first time about something so unrelated to her, that such terrible things did not happen.

She left the office with a slightly despondent air, and Rachel noticed. She clucked her tongue in Hermione's direction.

'You okay? You look bugged about something.'

Hermione shook her head absently. 'Just worried about- Sirius...' she said, after a slight pause.

Rachel looked sympathetic. 'I'm sure he'll be fine,' she said, soothingly. 'There's a lot of the 'flu going around. Mungo's will fix him up in no time.'

Hermione sighed. 'I hope so,' she said. She waved a last, cheerless goodbye, and then left the office.

* * *

'What's in the binder?' Remus asked, the moment she entered the kitchen.

Hermione glanced down at it and shrugged. She couldn't shake off the despondency that she felt settling down on her.

'Just some stuff Kaploffe wanted me to go through,' she said, vaguely. 'Is everyone here?'

Remus nodded at the table. Sirius was sitting with Molly, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands. Kingsley, Charlie and the twins were all pouring themselves copious amounts of tea from an enamel flask, and Tonks stood behind Remus with her hands on his shoulders. There was a palpable tension in the air, a sort of tight, crackling electricity that Hermione associated with collective nervousness. She leaned against the counter, putting her binder down on it, and said, 'So, is the powder ready?'

George nodded and indicated a set of small tubs on the counter. They were pale gray, and had twisting lids that looked like they had been poked into a pattern with a needle.

'It's all in there,' he said, 'When you get in, the first thing you do is shake it into the air, and anyone who breathes it in will get sucked into the hallucination. It works for a hundred feet radius, so you should be fine. You can finish your work and get out off there: the stuff wears off in about fifteen minutes.'

Hermione nodded, looking concerned. 'What about us?' she asked. 'How do we avoid the hallucination?'

Fred took a deep breath. 'We've made an antidote. It has to be injected, so we'll take care of that right before we leave. Dad's got the cameras- there they are.'

He nodded towards a pile of shiny, black cameras. Each had a little stand on which to fix them, and were about the size of half of Hermione's palm.

'Getting them on is pretty easy,' George said, 'All you have to use is a sticking charm. Then press the red button on the side- that's what puts them on. We've charmed them to give us a direct feed to the television Dad brought home from the Dep. He's rigging it up here so someone can keep watch at all times. When you're done, just Disillusion them and that should be it.'

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. It sounded simple, but she knew it wasn't.

'Hermione, I've book an appointment for you at Deborah's at eleven,' Remus said, suddenly. 'That'll get you in easy enough. If you leave now, you'll have to wait a good forty five minutes, which gives you time to poke around.'

'Of course,' Hermione said, quietly. She glanced at Sirius. 'Should we go then?'

They lined up in front of the table, and Fred produced a small bottle of antidote and six disposable syringes. Hermione felt a familiar, childhood panic as she saw him loading them up; she had always hated shots. She closed her eyes and extended her forearm, wincing as she felt Fred grasp it and swab it with spirit. Her mouth tightened slightly as she felt the prick and then she gasped as she felt the ice-cold antidote pushing into her and soaring through her vein. She tightened her hand, wishing the sensation would pass.

'Hermione, it's over. You can open your eyes now.'

She blinked twice and exhaled. Fred was grinning half-heartedly at her, massaging the spot he had injected.

'Thanks,' she said, weakly. She stepped back and let the others get their shots.

When Sirius was done, he came up to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. He had dressed in loose jeans and a thick black jacket which felt warm against her arm. She leaned into him and sighed.

'We'll get through this, won't we?' she murmured.

He nodded, looking determined. 'Of course we will. Calm down, you're full of knots.'

She sighed, as Fred injected Kingsley and then himself, and then looked up.

'All done,' he said, bracingly. 'Time to go.'

* * *

**Author's Note: Not very long, I know. Sigh. I seem to be hitting some sort of mild form of writer's block. **

**I PROMISE, though, the next one will be quicker. In fact, I'll get to work on it right now.**

**Cheers. =D  
**


	37. Salons and Mirrors

**CHAPTER 37**

Deborah Arkwright's parlor transpired to be a low-slung, residential looking house, which managed to skate over an entire medley of themes that encompassed Gothic and cutting-edge all in one go. It was appropriately placed in a garden filled with cropped grass and bushes pruned into abstract shapes. The flower beds were measured out with rulers and formed a lattice of moderately colored begonias, and strange plants with dark, heart-shaped leaves. The house itself was a mass of creamy brown stone, with a pillared porch and metallic shutters. Narrow vines inched their way up the pillars, and a cross-hatched bracket of oak stood above the front door, along with a luridly colored Turkish evil eye. Hermione and Sirius exchanged glances before mounting the front steps and pressing the bell.

A calm, collected voice sounded through the buzzer.

'How may I help you?'

'My name's Hermione Gr-Black. I had an appointment for eleven?'

'Of course, Mrs. Black. Come right on up.'

The front door swung open, and Hermione and Sirius entered, careful to stow their wands out of sight. The building was dimly lit in soft, yellow light which gave it a warm ambiance. They climbed a set of stairs until they reached a narrow reception. A pale, blond witch with a sleek bob and round spectacles sat behind it. She looked up with a controlled smile as they entered the room.

'You must be Mrs Black,' she said, pleasantly. 'You're a little early for your appointment. Why don't you have a seat and I'll let you know when one of the girls is ready?'

Hermione glanced to where she gestured, and saw a low, plum-upholstered bench. Two women sat on it, thumbing through magazines that shrieked out titles like "Drive Him Crazy In The Bedroom", and "How To Find Your G-Spot." She glanced back at Sirius who subtly shook his head.

'Actually,' she began, a little hesitantly, 'Could you tell me where the restroom is? I'd like to- to powder my nose.'

The receptionist looked sympathetic. 'I thought you would,' she said, leaning forward and eyeing her nose. Hermione clapped a hand to it. 'The restroom is behind that door, straight and then left.'

Sirius positioned a hand between her shoulder blades, and steered her through the discreet door behind the desk. The corridor that faced them was narrow and lit by an oriental lamp with a pleated silk shade. Straight a head, it turned a sharp left and a little sign indicated the restroom.

'What did she mean she thought I would?' Hermione demanded, indignantly, as soon as he shut the door behind them.

Sirius rolled his eyes. 'Is that really an immediate problem?'

'There's nothing wrong with my nose!'

'Of course not, it's positively charming. Now, do you think that she was one of-'

'Powder it, indeed!'

'Hermione,' Sirius said, with exaggerated patience, 'Not that this topic doesn't delight me, but could we concentrate on how to find the portal first?'

Hermione huffed but said nothing.

'I don't think the portal would be out there,' Sirius began, 'And I highly doubt it would be in the actual salon. It needs to be someplace discreet, where people can go without getting too many suspicious glances.'

'There has to be someone here who's one of them too,' Hermione pointed out. 'The others had guards, didn't they?'

Sirius nodded. 'It could well be your nose-girl, out there. I wanted to check if she had any magical traces on her, but I couldn't do it with my wand in your bag. The cameras are okay, right?'

Hermione shrugged, and the cameras stirred within the heavy, quilted tote she carried over her shoulder. 'I guess,' she muttered, 'If you're right about the portal not being outside, how the hell are we supposed to get to any other part of the house? This corridor just leads to the bathroom.'

Sirius frowned. 'Let's check the bathroom first,' he said. They tramped down the corridor, Hermione feeling the weight of the camera dragging down on her shoulder. She pushed open the bathroom door and glanced inside. It was clean and white, with a large, silver-rimmed mirror on one wall, and a broad counter with chunky taps. Hermione walked in and idly turned on one and then off, glancing meditatively at the foamy stream of water that jetted out.

Sirius, meanwhile, was rummaging in his pocket.

'What are you doing?'

'Looking for my wand. I want to see if there are magical traces in here.'

He pulled it out and swished it contemplatively.

'Anything?' Hermione asked, anxiously.

Sirius frowned and shook his head. 'Not here,' he muttered, 'But there's a faint trace coming from somewhere... above.'

Hermione glanced up at the ceiling. It was tiled in pale gray, with frosty lights embedded in it. 'There's nothing up there.'

'There might be some other way,' Sirius said, quietly. He glanced at the mirror. 'Didn't you say the shelf in the Marriage Registrar slid out to show the staircase?'

Hermione nodded. She walked up to the mirror and began to slide her palms along its surface, inch by inch. Sirius, in the mean time, got down to his knees and began to examine the piping under the counter.

'Anything?' Hermione asked.

He shook his head. 'Not that I can- hang on a minute...'

Hermione was on her knees in an instant. 'What is it?'

He frowned and pointed to the main pipe that dropped down from the enamel basin and disappeared into the wall. A thin ring of bronze surrounded the steel pipe at one point, with a serrated edge.

'Did you just prod something in the mirror?' Sirius asked.

'No. Why?'

'This ring just moved a little bit. As in, it spun around. On its own.'

Hermione frowned and got back to her feet. 'Tell me when to stop,' she said, and went back to moving her fingertips over the mirror, trying to retrace the patterns she had been making against the glassy surface earlier.

'Is it spinning?'

'No.'

She sighed, and transferred her attention back to the mirror. At that moment, something caught her eye. As she had been leaning over the counter, she had been brushing against the tap that hung over the basin. She frowned for a moment, and then twisted it so that a stream of water began to gush down.

'It's moving!' Sirius exclaimed. 'What did you do?'

'Turned the tap,' Hermione said, dropping to her knees. Sure enough the bronze ring was rotating very slowly. As it completed a circle, it clicked softly and the entire portion of the pipe broke off, so that they could stare down the dark cross-section. Hermione winced, wondering whether the water flowing into the basin would stream out onto them, but it as dry.

'Now what?' she asked, uncertainly.

Sirius lit the tip of his wand and held it up into the pipe. 'There's something here,' he said, quietly, 'Some sort of knob. It's the same brass as the ring. Hang on a minute.'

He transferred his wand to his left hand, and reached cautiously into the pipe with his right. He twisted a finger around the knob and turned it. Immediately, they heard a low, grinding noise.

'What the fuck was that?' Hermione asked, in a harsh whisper.

'I think- Oh, god, I was right. Look at the mirror.'

Uncertainly, Hermione leaned back and glanced up. To her shock, she saw that the mirror had slid neatly back into the wall, revealing a gap beyond.

'You've got to be kidding me,' she muttered, 'If this was it, why were you getting the trace from above?'

'None of this was magic,' Sirius muttered. 'It was all mechanical. The tap, connected to the ring, and then the knob. All levers and stuff.'

Hermione bit her lip. 'Then why isn't water coming out of the broken pipe? It should have splashed all over us.'

Sirius leaned forward and shone his wand down the pipe again. 'This isn't directly connected to the drain in the basin. It reaches a dead end somewhere up ahead. I think that water's diverted off immediately underneath.'

Hermione nodded and got to her feet, bracing herself. The gap behind the mirror transpired to be a long, cemented corridor, lit by very familiar looking torches. Up ahead, she could see the corridor come to an end and a pair of what looked very much like grilled elevator doors.

'This is it,' she muttered.

Sirius nodded, and then moving back he locked the bathroom door behind him. He glanced at his watch and then at her.

'We have fifteen minutes till your appointment,' he said, quietly, 'And we can't be late or the receptionist will come looking. Come on, let's get this over with.'

Hermione nodded and then winced as Sirius cast a Disillusionment Charm first on her and then himself. She shrugged to dispel the icy feeling creeping down her back and then hoisted herself onto the counter and stepped determinedly into the corridor, turning and waiting for Sirius to follow her.

'There has to be some way to close this mirror,' Sirius muttered, as soon as he was in. The torches on the wall were throwing a faint, flickering light all around them. He turned and began to feel the wall, stopping when he came across a brass knob, identical to the one in the pipe.

'Bingo,' he muttered, twisting it. With the same, grinding noise the mirror slid back into place. Hermione blinked; the corridor was darker than ever now.

'There's an elevator up ahead,' she whispered, as she began to make her way down the corridor. 'How the hell did they managed to install an elevator in- where are we exactly? Some other part of the house?'

Sirius frowned. 'I'm pretty sure this is the bit just under that sloping roof we saw on the outside. It just about fits. The elevator's probably suspended with magic: that's why I got a trace from above.'

Hermione nodded as she cautiously pressed the button by the doors. They slid open easily, noiselessly, and as she stepped in she held her breath.

'Relax,' Sirius breathed, 'We're practically invisible right now. There's only one button on this panel, so I think that saves us a lot of confusion. Bring out the powder, will you?'

Hermione brought out the little shaker of powder as Sirius pressed the button and they began to descend downwards slowly. The elevator moved smoothly, with hardly any noise. She held her breath and began to count the seconds as the descended. She had reached thirty two, when the elevator came to a sudden halt and the doors slid open.

Even though she was disillusioned, Hermione had never been more terrified in her life.

Her eyes roamed over the city, taking in everything that was surreal and familiar all at once. This portal too opened up onto an elevated platform, and she could see the changes that had taken place since she had last been here: more buildings crowded in, a lot more people roaming the streets. A man in khaki robes and a helmet stood beside the elevator, his wand held aloft and a focused expression on his face. He had whirled around when he heard the elevator door open, and his eyes narrowed with confusion.

Before he could ponder over the phantom elevator doors too much, Hermione gripped the shaker of powder in her hand, and began to scatter it around. The powder was fine, and a pale, yellowish color. She could feel herself inhaling it: it was like minuscule pinpricks of icy water in her nostrils. As she watched, the guard's eyes unfocused slightly, and after a faint frown he settled back into his old position.

'Bravo,' Sirius whispered, 'That worked a charm.'

'Hurry up, we don't have much time,' Hermione muttered back. The sensation of the powder was irritating her nostrils despite the antidote. She opened her tote and pulled out the camera and the stand. Sirius glanced around, his sharp eyes catching on every nook and cranny that would be a suitable post for it.

'How about there?' Hermione asked, pointing to what looked like a light fixture. It was set up high on the wall to their left.

Sirius shook his head. 'It has to be somewhere that can give us a good view of the whole area. How about on this railing itself?'

He palmed the slick metal in front of them and Hermione frowned.

'It's a little risky, though, isn't it? Everyone who uses this portal would walk in and out of here. What if someone bangs an elbow against it or something?'

'Good point,' Sirius said. He checked his watch. 'Okay, we have twelve minutes, and we need a bright idea immediately.'

Hermione dropped to her knees and began to feel along the base of the platform. It was grilled, with thick, flat rods slicing up and down it. At the edge was a thickish bar with railings.

'What about if we suspend it _under_ the platform?' she asked. 'It's elevated, so it still gives us a good view, and I highly doubt anybody would really come across it.'

Sirius grinned. 'It's brilliant,' he muttered. He dropped to his knees as well, carefully cupping the camera and its stand. 'Hang on, let's see how we can get this on...'

'Try using a Sticking Charm on the stand, and gluing it upside down to the bottom of one of these rods. Look, I can stick my hand over the edge and do it. Give me the camera.'

'Careful,' Sirius warned, as he passed it to her. Hermione leaned over the edge, bracing her feet firmly on the grilling, and withdrew her wand with her left hand. She cast a quick Sticking Charm on the stand, and carefully maneuvered it into place underneath the rods.

'It's on,' she whispered, 'Now how does the camera go on over that?'

'Pull this catch back and slip it in,' Sirius replied, showing her. 'Hurry up, that guard looks spaced out but we only have nine minutes.'

Hermione nodded and slipped the camera into the stand the way she had shone. She bent over a little more, found the red button the twins had shown her in the morning, and then pressed it.

A sharp blue light on the edge of the camera blinked to life and shone steadily.

'Bingo!' Hermione whispered, 'It's on! Hang on, let me just-'

She poked her wand over the edge and muttered a quick Disillusionment Spell, before withdrawing.

'Done,' she muttered.

'Excellent,' Sirius said, 'And now we need to hurry up and get out of here. The powder wears off in six minutes, and that guy can't see the elevator doors opening on their own again. Come on.'

He helped her to her feet and they both crossed the platform carefully, stopping when they faced the elevator. Like its replica above, it had a single button that Sirius pushed without wasting time.

'Do you think the others will be done already?' Hermione whispered, once they were back in the elevator.

Sirius shrugged. 'No clue, we've got out of there pretty quickly.' He checked his watch. 'You have two minutes left till your appointment.'

The elevator doors slid apart gently and they both raced out into the corridor beyond. Sirius turned the brass knob and the blank wall in front of them slid away. They climbed back onto the counter and then snapped shut the mirror the same way they had earlier.

'All done,' Hermione whispered, letting out a breath she hadn't known she had been holding.

Sirius nodded and groped for her hand, squeezing her fingers tightly between his. 'How do you feel?'

'Excited. How do I look?'

Sirius considered her flushed face and the fly away bits of her hair that were scattered out of the ponytail she had thrown it into.

'Like you need to get your hair done,' he said, finally. 'Come on, I know _just_ the place.'

* * *

**Author's Note: Like it? Hate it? The mirror bit too weird? Seemed to easy? Impossible to get all that schmuck done in fifteen minutes?**

**Yup, there's lots of things that could be wrong with this chapter. Write in and tell me what you think? =D  
**


	38. Plums and PostIts

**CHAPTER 38**

'You cut your hair?' Ginny asked, disbelievingly, later that evening at the Burrow.

Hermione blinked. 'I've just come home from a near suicidal mission and that's the first thing you can ask me?'

Her hand leapt self-consciously to her hair, which she had cropped to the base of her neck. She actually rather liked it, the soft springiness and the bangs in front. It had felt like approximately three pounds of weight being dropped of her head.

Ginny snorted. 'Suicidal? I think not. I really wish I could have come, but Mum says I still look peaky. It's a bore, sitting at home all the time. Why aren't you at Grimmauld Place?'

Hermione shrugged. 'Just thought I'd pop in. You're feeling alright, aren't you?' She added, concerned.

Ginny nodded. 'Couldn't be better. Mum and Dad got back sometime in the afternoon. Where's Sirius?'

'At Grimmauld Place,' Hermione said. She plucked a plum from the bowl that Ginny kept in her room and popped it into her mouth. 'He and the others are going over notes. Everyone got through it without any trouble. We even checked the TV- we're getting a brilliant feed from all four cameras. It's in Sirius's old room, where we kept Buckbeak.'

Ginny leaned back against her bed, and bent her legs as the knees, cupping them with her palms. 'Have you guys been watching it all this time? It's almost ten.'

Hermione nodded. 'It was a really good idea, about the cameras. We've been trying to figure out the weak points, and where they have their recruitment centers and most importantly, their artillery. We haven't got much yet, although we saw how they positioned their guards at the entrances. Some of the people down there seem to be ordinary citizens: it's actually like a proper city.'

Ginny frowned. 'Do you think they live there?'

Hermione shrugged. 'We haven't seen anything that looks like a residential area. I think it's more of a place for them to get together and plan what they're doing: like the Room of Requirement, when we started the DA. All these people live ordinary lives, with families and homes: this is just something they do along with this.'

'You haven't seen anyone we know down there, have you?' Ginny asked, anxiously.

Hermione shook her head. 'Most of them have hoods, and the ones in armor have these helmet-like plates. But it's just been a while. We've rigged it so that someone watches that place all the time. My shifts at about eleven, so I actually have to leave in a bit.'

Ginny nodded. 'You better get going. Thanks for dropping in on me, by the way. I love you, Herms.'

Hermione kissed her cheek and then gathered her things, stepping out of the front door before Disapparating. The weather was frosty, and she pulled her coat closer as she pushed open the front door and stepped inside. She could hear noises from the kitchen.

'Hey,' she said, as she pushed open the door and stepped inside. The room was even fuller than usual, with everyone including the twins seated at the table. Sirius glanced up as she entered, and smiled broadly, shifting in his seat to give her some place.

'Hey,' he said, kissing the side of her head, 'How's Ginny?'

'She's good,' Hermione said, huddling closer. He pushed his cup of coffee towards her, and she wrapped her hands around then, trying to warm them. 'Who's upstairs?'

'Tonks,' Remus said, and glancing around, Hermione realized she wasn't at the table. 'You're next, Hermione, aren't you?'

Hermione nodded. She was feeling warm here, comfortable. 'I think I'll just go up now,' she said, 'Now that I'm here, there's no point waiting a few minutes.' She turned to Sirius and added, 'I'll be home after two. Will you be up?'

He nodded, and she kissed his cheek before she got up and left the room. She climbed the stairs slowly, feeling a belated tiredness pulling down on her, and pushed open the door to Sirius's room with a sense of relief. The TV was pushed up against the far wall, and Remus had levitated an armchair to the room and positioned it in front of it. Tonks was curled up on it, wearing a purple jumpsuit and balancing a plate of sandwiches on her lap. She was chewing meditatively, eyes trained on the TV. When she heard the door open, she turned and flashed Hermione a broad smile.

'Hey sweetie. Come to take over?'

Hermione nodded. 'You must be bored. Anything going on?'

Tonks should her head. She beckoned Hermione over, and gestured towards the TV. Hermione noticed that it was latticed into four sections, one displaying the feed from each camera they had installed.

'This one,' Tonks said, pointing to the first square, 'Is the camera you and Sirius installed, at the Eastern Portal. This one's the Western one, at the Organized Registry. Here's the Northern and Southern. Now, I can't be sure, but you see this big white building in the Eastern one?'

Hermione nodded.

'I think is where they keep their supplies. Food, water, fuel, stuff like that. I saw people walking in and out with huge sacks a while back. That could be important. And this shack sort of thing, with the huge padlock in the Northern section? Some guys dropped off a few huge guns their. I have no clue why they have guns, when they can use wands, but there you go.'

Hermione nodded. 'Anything else?'

'No, that's about it. Will you be okay?'

'Sure I will. Go along and get some sleep. You look exhausted.'

Tonks laughed. 'I am,' she admitted. 'Well, happy watching then. Finish my sandwiches if you like. They don't have meat, so you can have them.'

Hermione nodded gratefully and balanced the plate of sandwiches on her palm as she sat on the armchair and tucked her feet under herself. She bit into one as she turned her attention to the TV/

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Two weeks later, the blueprints that Kingsley had begun drawing had been filled in remarkably. They took turns watching the TV, and Hermione always stumbled home at about one thirty or two, tired and hungry. Sometimes, Sirius stayed up for her with a bowl of soup or a salad. Normally, he was fast asleep by then, tucked in under her thick eiderdown, and she would change quickly and crawl in after him, too tired and cold to shower. Sirius's shift was generally in the afternoon, when she was at work, and she would go straight back to Grimmauld Place to find him and Remus sitting at the table and playing cards or chatting. There were times when Hermione, who felt more tired and irate as the days got colder and her work hours got longer, felt consciously resentful of the amount of the free time Sirius had. He always seemed to be having the time of his life, having lengthy conversations with anyone he could find home at odd hours of the day, snacking and chatting about rare forms of magic. She tried to shove these thoughts away, though, reassuring herself that it was only normal, given the amount of stress she was under.

She felt a pang of satisfaction when she saw the nearly completed blueprints on the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place, though. It was the thirtieth of December, and Molly had been in the middle of planning a party she wanted to host at the Burrow when Kingsley brought them out. They had identified the pattern of guards at the portals: there was one at all times and two at night, all equipped with wands and a pistol. It struck Hermione that their obsession with Muggle arms actually made sense: if there was one thing she had learned in all her years at Hogwarts (and there were several), it was that a simple Shield Charm went a long way. She highly doubted it would do much against a well aimed bullet, though.

In addition to that, they had identified a few places inside the city that were points of weaknesses: the low-slung, white building near the Eastern Portal was indeed one. It seemed to have all the stores the city needed, including separate go-downs for timber and metal. In addition to this were two shacks, placed side-by-side, that were chalk full of guns, bullets, and various explosives. There was also a fenced field, walled in in some places, where there seemed to be a set of training exercises for the "army", and a narrow, tall house, with one-sided glass windows, and walls spiked with shards of glass, that seemed to be some sort of meeting place. Several times, they had noticed cloaked figures, seemingly prominent members of the conspiracy, crowding inside the building, and Sirius was of the opinion that it was something of a parliament.

As Hermione stared at the newly filled in blueprint, she began to feel something that she hadn't consciously acknowledged in a while: hope.

She sidled up to Sirius and tucked her arm around his, smiling as she said, 'We seem to be doing pretty well, right?'

Kingsley nodded. He looked pleased. 'You're right, we are. In fact, I think we might even be ready for a direct attack in one and a half weeks or so. I know we're outnumbered, but we have the element of surprise and a seriously detailed knowledge of what we're up against.'

Sirius nodded. 'You're right,' he said, 'I think we're pretty close to being ready. Maybe the seventh or eighth of January-'

The discussion went on for some time. Hermione stayed at Sirius's side, listening as he and Kingsley began to discuss techniques and spells. At some point, Sirius must have sensed her boredom, because he bent down and said, 'Want to get out of here?'

Hermione looked up gratefully. 'How about we go home and have dinner?' she asked.

Sirius nodded. 'Come on,' he said. They bade everyone else a farewell, promised to come for Molly's party the next day, and apparated back to the flat. Hermione had switched shifts with Tonks that day, and when she got back to her apartment the first thing she did was draw herself a long bath. She emptied a bottle of vanilla scented bubble bath into it and dropped out of her clothes, dreading the moment that she stood naked on the bathroom mat, goosebumps dimpling up and down her arms. She stepped into the tub and let her legs acclimatize to the steaming water before lowering herself into. It felt amazing, and she leaned back against the rim of the tub and sighed.

* * *

The only noise disturbing the thick silence that enveloped the Burrow was a cricket that was incessantly chirping somewhere near Ginny's bedroom door. She had tried sleeping, drawing her duvet up to her ears and snuggling into it, but the noise pierced the air with a palpable jab and she found herself wincing with displeasure. Sighing, and dreading the cold, she sat up and flung back the eiderdown, locating her fluffy slippers somewhere near the foot of her bed and slipping her feet into them. She picked up an issue of Cosmo that was lying on her bedside table and rolled it up, clutching it firmly in one hand and getting out of bed with a determined air.

She would kill the little bugger if it was the last thing she did.

She eased her bedroom door slightly open and began to hunt around for it. Predictably, the cricket had fallen silent and she gave up after a while and headed back to her bed. She was just slipping under the covers when an entirely different noise split the air.

A sharp crack. Someone had apparated outside the Burrow.

Instantly, Ginny was alert. She flung away the Cosmo, and picked up her wand, curling her fingers around it until her knuckles turned white. She moved to her window and drew back the curtain with a tip of one finger, just a smidgen, so a slice of the unkempt garden was visible to her. At first, she couldn't make out anything but blurry shapes. Then, two cloaked figures drew into view and Ginny sucked in her breath.

They were moving towards the house, and Ginny's automatic objective was to rush to her parent's room and wake them up. As she raced out of her room, though, it struck her that she might not have enough time for that. Instead, she flew down the stairs, wand ready in front of her, and then crept across the hall to the front door. She bolted it firmly, and then snuck a peak out of the window positioned near the door.

The figures were closer now. They were tall, gangly, holding wands. To her shock, she saw that they had lit the tips of their wands, and were aiming them directly at the door. She took a deep breath and then squealed as the ray of light shone directly on her face. She blinked, blinded, and suddenly filled with panic. Groping for the window sill, she used it to brace herself and step back, but before she could, she heard a voice that she recognized all too well.

'Ginny! Open up! It's us!'

* * *

Hermione must have drifted off in the tub, because the next thing she knew the bathroom door was wrenched open, and the water didn't feel quite so hot. She glanced up, part-annoyed to be interrupted, and part-thankful to be woken before the water turned chill, and saw Sirius standing at the frame, his face flushed and breathing heavily. He had a crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

'What happened?' Hermione asked, eyes wide.

'Harry!' Sirius choked. 'Harry and Ron and the others are back!'

Hermione yelped and sat up ramrod straight. '_What?'_

'They're in the Burrow right now! They got in five minutes ago.'

'We didn't- they never told us- what are they doing back?'

'I don't know, Molly just wrote me! Herms, hurry up, we need to go over.'

Hermione felt anticipation sparkling under her skin. She glanced at Sirius and saw how impatient he was, practically jumping up and down as he waited for her response.

'You go ahead,' she said, quickly, 'I'll drag some clothes on and be there in a minute.'

Sirius hesitated, concerned. 'Are you sure?'

'Yes, yes, now _go!_' Hermione said, as she stood up and wrapped her bathrobe around her. Sirius didn't need any more encouragement. He disapparated with a crack.

Hermione hurried to her room and dried herself with a quick spell. She bent down over her drawer, pulling out jeans and underclothes. She was in the process of hooking her bra when a sharp tap at the window distracted her.

She glanced up and saw a tawny owl fluttering outside, an impatient look on its face. A silent groan showed on her face.

_Are you kidding me?_

Crossing over to the window, she unlatched it and untied the letter from the owl's leg. Reading through it, she let out an exasperated grunt.

_Hermione, can you get down to the office right now? It's urgent!_

'Kidding me, kidding me, you've got to be _kidding me_,' she muttered, recognizing Rachel's handwriting. She glanced at her watch. It had been three minutes since Sirius left: fine, then. Five minutes to pop into the office, and she'd be with Harry and Ron in no time at all.

She shrugged a thick, black coat around her , and cinched it in at the waist. She felt something crackle in her pocket, and pulling it out she recognized it as the note about the Apparation Portal that they had found in Jennifer's apartment: she had been wearing the same jacket that day as well. Rolling her eyes and jamming it back in her pocket, she wound a muffler around her throat and grabbed her handbag and wand before apparating.

The Ministry was silent and empty. Glancing at her watch, Hermione saw that it was past eleven. She hurried through the empty Atrium, ridiculously thankful that she had worn flats and then down the corridor that led to the Wizengamot Dep. As she raced in, she spied Rachel sitting easily behind her desk.

'What?' Hermione rasped, coming to a panting stop beside her.

Rachel raised an eyebrow. 'Wow, that was quick. I'm glad you came in though. I'm so sick of sitting in here late, but Kaploffe left me some filing work, and-'

'Rachel,' Hermione interrupted, slamming her hands down against the latter's desk, '_What. Do. You. Want?'_

Rachel's eyes widened. 'Oh, that,' she said, looking a bit taken-aback. 'Well, Kaploffe left you another binder in his office, and-'

'_That's it?'_ Hermione snarled. 'That's what you called me down here for?'

'Well, sure. He said it was important, and-'

'Argh!' Hermione snapped, throwing her hands up in the air. _What a complete waste of time. _She controlled her breathing, and then said, finally, 'Well, fine! Where the hell is it?'

'In- his office...' Rachel said, still looking uncertain. 'It's the black one.' She pointed vaguely.

Hermione whirled around and stomped into Kaploffe's office, throwing the door irreverently open and flipping on the light. She spied the thick binder of his desk, and rushed over to it. As she picked it up, a small yellow post-it that had been stuck to it fluttered off. Hermione turned it around in her fingers.

_Hope this helps you. Keep me posted?_

Despite her anger, Hermione managed a small, weak smile. She held the post-it between two fingers, eyeing the familiar, spidery scrawl like an old friend. It reminded her of the letter he had written to her to tell her that she had got the job at the Ministry. She was about to turn when she noticed his lighter lying on the desk. It was small, neon-yellow, with a blown-up, jazzy picture of Marilyn Monroe on its shiny, glass surface. She pocketed it, and made a mental note to return it tomorrow to him along with thanks for the binder: she knew he was generally particular about not leaving stuff in his office, given Rachel's somewhat kleptomaniac habit of filching things she found shiny or attractive.

She shook her head with a smile as she turned and flicked the office light off. Her hand had just touched the doorknob when she froze in her tracks.

It had suddenly struck her where exactly she had seen that spidery scrawl on the post-it.

On the note with the Apparition Portal that they had found in Jennifer Duchamps's apartment.

* * *

**Author's Note: Ooh. I know. Dramatic enough or did it need more...pizzaze? I really don't think that's a word, incidentally, it just seems to sum up what this chapter needs to give it a bit more oomph. **

**Okay, I'm really weird with my vocabulary today. **

**Review? Please?**

**=D  
**


	39. Secrets and Guilt Trips

**CHAPTER 39**

Hermione wasn't sure how long she stood in the dark office, her hand curled around the doorknob. The metal had suddenly turned icy under her skin, a chill that seemed to correspond with the one that was slowly creeping through her shoulders and down her body, until she was practically shivering. She clenched her mouth shut and took a deep, juddering breath, trying to suck some oxygen into her lungs. Finally, she let go of the knob like it was on fire and stumbled backwards, colliding heavily against his desk.

She ignored the wave of pain that was spreading through her hip bone. Instead, her trembling fingers dug into her pocket and pulled out the crumpled scrap of paper they had found at Jennifer's apartment.

It couldn't be. It simply _couldn't_.

And yet, as she stared at the crumpled note she held in one hand and the post-it that was stuck on the binder, she realized that it was. The handwriting was identical: sprawled, liberally messy across the sheet. She saw that he had a typical way of inscribing his _t_'s, something she had noticed before: a little curl at the bottom of the alphabet adding a flourish to the entire world.

_Kaploffe _had written the note they had found in Jennifer's apartment?

She took another step backward, suddenly feeling weak in the knees, and sunk into his chair. Bracing her palms against the desk, she tried to make sense of her sudden realization. It was like putting little pieces of a jigsaw together, she realized, remembering the strange, nagging feeling she'd had when she'd stared at that scrap of paper for the first time. _Of course_, it had always been familiar! She'd seen the same scrawl on the letter Kaploffe wrote her, the one telling her she'd got the job. She groaned, kicking herself for not seeing it earlier.

But if Kaploffe had been the one who wrote that note, then Kaploffe had been in charge of splinching Amanda Houston, and that meant that-

She gasped as she remembered the strange, hooded figure who Mrs Prattle had seen accompanying Jennifer into Carla's apartment. Not to mention the fact that Jennifer had been visiting him in his office, although Rachel had immediately assumed they were having an affair. It had been _him _all along, then! They had always figured that the leader of the operation would be a Ministry insider. But- _Kaploffe_?

She shook her head, trying to clear it of the confusing motley of thoughts and emotions that were scattered there. She had no time to sort through this now, she decided. She had to get to the Burrow, had to get to Sirius and tell him that-

The door clicked open, and Hermione froze. She contemplated hiding under the desk, and then reminded herself that it was probably Rachel, coming to ask what she had been doing in here for so long.

But as the crack widened, she caught sight of a silhouetted figure who was most definitely _not_ Rachel.

* * *

'You got here fast,' Harry said, with a characteristic grin. It was wide and toothy, something that spread across his face with every intimation of good cheer. It was only looking at it now that Sirius realized how much he'd missed it.

'I came as soon as I got Molly's letter. You could have warned us!'

He punched Harry's shoulder enthusiastically. They were sitting side by side at the dining table at the Burrow. The two boys had initially been bombarded by questions and exclamations, but after about half an hour everyone had drifted into their own, private conversations. Molly and Arthur were sitting on the couch, beside Ron, and Molly was weeping in a broken-down sort of way that made Sirius realize just how much she'd been silently suffering these last six months. Ginny, who had just unwrapped herself from Harry, was talking loudly to Tonks, Charlie and Remus, telling them how surprised she'd been when they came back, how much it frightened her to see the strange figures in the garden. Sirius turned his attention back to Harry, and saw a strange somberness on his expression as he looked at Ginny, something that hadn't been there before. He frowned.

'Are you hungry?'

Harry shook his head. 'No, not yet. Just glad to be back, really.'

'Why did you come so fast?'

'We had a bit of a skirmish last night, but we've taken care of almost everything. The Death Eaters are dead, Sirius. That's something we can count on, at least. One or two of them escaped, but we figured it didn't make sense hanging around in Bucharest until they staged a reappearance. We wanted to get back as soon as we could. We sent an owl to Charlie, but I think it got lost on the way.'

Sirius nodded. He opened his mouth to say something, and then saw Harry's eyes drift to Ginny again, and fill with the same gravity. He frowned.

'Harry?'

'Yup?'

'Is everything alright?'

Harry blinked. 'Sirius, I just told you, we killed-'

'No, I meant with you, personally,' Sirius interrupted. 'You're not looking too good, kid.'

Harry hesitated for a moment, but Sirius saw it again, that dull, wistful expression that he had glimpsed earlier.

'I- I guess I need to talk to you about this,' he said, quietly. He glanced around to make sure nobody was watching, and then turned to Sirius. 'I- Ginny was pregnant.'

Sirius sucked in his breath so fast he thought it cut the back of his throat. His eyes widened, and he automatically cross-checked that Molly wasn't around. Turning back to Harry, he spoke in a low whisper.

'What?'

'I didn't know for ages. She wrote and told me. It was- I guess it was awfully difficult for her.'

Sirius remembered how peaky Ginny had looked over the last few months, and suddenly it clicked.

'She was- pregnant...' he said, slowly.

Harry nodded.

'Was?'

'I- yes,' Harry said, nodding slowly. 'She wrote to me saying she wanted to get an abortion. I told her it was alright.'

Sirius's eyes softened, and leaning forward, he wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders. 'I'm sorry,' he said, quietly. 'I didn't know. I know how much this must have hurt you.'

Harry lifted an arm, hopelessly. 'I couldn't do anything else,' he said, hoarsely. 'This isn't what she wanted. I have to understand that, I suppose.'

'You're doing a damn good job of that,' Sirius said, slowly. 'I'm sorry I didn't know, kid. I wish I could have helped out.'

Harry glanced up at him. 'Hermione knew,' he said, 'She went with Gin to the clinic.'

Sirius sat straight as though he had been hit. He stared at Harry.

'Hermione _knew_?'

'Sure. Ginny borrowed some money off her as well. I'm really glad she was there, because I don't think Ginny would have had the strength to do this on her own. She needed someone with her.'

A series of images flashed through Sirius's mind, each in rapid succession.

_'This isn't my secret to tell!'_

_'I have plans, with Ginny...'_

_'Don't you question my priorities, Sirius Black, because you know nothing about them!'_

'This is what she was up to...' he murmured.

Harry looked at him, puzzled. 'Didn't she tell you? I suppose Ginny asked her not to, though. I- Ginny said that you two have been- have been-'

'We have,' Sirius said, automatically, running a hand through his hair. Fresh guilt from their fight was pouring over him. Hermione had gone with his godson's girlfriend, to be with her while she was aborting her baby, and he had _questioned her priorities?_

'Well,' said Harry, a trace uncomfortably, 'I'm- uh- I'm happy for you, then. Ginny says you two look very- actually, screw it. Never mind. Where is Hermione?'

Sirius blinked, wrenched from his own train of thought. 'Oh, god. Why the hell isn't she here yet?'

Harry frowned. 'Didn't you say she'd be just five minutes?'

Sirius stood up. 'She just had to change. I have no idea- Harry, I'm sorry, but I have to nip out for about five minutes. I need to- I need to find Hermione.'

Harry nodded, quickly. 'Sure. Take your time. But bring her back, okay? I haven't seen the girl in ages and I miss her.'

Sirius nodded. 'Sure I will,' he said, quickly. He yanked open the front door and strode out a good ten steps before disapparating to the flat.

* * *

Hermione stared at Kaploffe, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open.

He was dressed in his regular work clothes, thick, dark robes with a cloak that was a lighter shade of brown. His dark eyes were watching her with a mixture of surprise and suspicion, and she suddenly noticed that the creases around his eyes looked a lot less like laugh lines, and a lot more like- well, something else. He held the door partially open, one hand curled around the knob where hers had been, and his wand was lightly clutched in the fingers of his other hand.

He raised an eyebrow, as he walked into the room and flicked on the light. Hermione felt instantly better as the soft yellowness flooded the room. He didn't look quite so sinister now, and she reminded herself that Rachel was just outside in the reception.

'Hermione,' he said, after a pause. His word had a hint of interrogation to it.

'I- yes, sir?' she squeaked. His eyebrow raised even higher and she mentally cursed herself for appearing so flustered. She cleared her throat, and said, in a slightly firmer tone, 'I- I just came in to pick up the binder you left for me. Rachel told me all about it.'

Kaploffe nodded slightly, his head moving up and down in slow motion. His eyes were fixed intently on her, and Hermione suddenly was visited by the unnerving suggestion that he could smell her fear and was trying make something of it.

'You came to pick up the binder?' he asked, slowly. 'It's quite late, isn't it, my dear?'

Hermione managed to nod. 'Yes, but Rachel told me it was urgent. I thought something had come up so I rushed down here. I'm sorry I was sitting in your chair, but I was a little breathless and had to rest for a moment. Thanks so much for the data, Mr. Kaploffe. It's going to come in very useful.'

'Of course, my dear,' he said. His voice seemed to have returned to normal, at least for the time being. Hermione hurriedly got up from his chair, and he moved towards it, making to sit down. As he did, however, he froze.

Hermione's eyes dropped to the desk, and too late she realized her mistake.

Lying in clear view on the desk was the black binder, and positioned on top of it were both the post-it, and the note from Jennifer's apartment, side by side.

Hermione's breath hitched in her throat, and she could swear that her heart stopped for a moment. She saw Kaploffe remain rigid, standing above the desk, his eyes centered on the binder. She hesitated for a moment, and then lunging forward, she grabbed the binder wildly.

'I'll just keep this with me,' she said, smoothly. 'I should probably be going, anyway. Thanks so much, Mr. Kaploffe, I-'

'Why don't you sit down, Hermione?' he asked, quietly. His voice was steady, but Hermione felt the blood drain from her face. 'I'd like to discuss whatever problems you're having with this assignment.'

'No problems,' Hermione said, quickly. Her voice sounded a bit squeaky. 'Really, it's fine, I-'

'Sit down.'

This time she did. She gathered the binder close on her lap, her fingers crushing both notes between them. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage, and she anxiously searched Kaploffe's expression for something that intimated a threat.

'You mentioned that this case was particularly difficult,' he said, keeping his eyes trained directly on her.

Hermione nodded. 'I- they- yes, a little bit,' she finished, a little lamely.

'The binder would help, though.'

'Of course.'

'There's some examples of insanity pledges in there, _and _their misuse, which you told me was very important to your study.'

'That'll- that will help.'

'There's also a cross-referenced index on some of its clauses.'

Hermione remained silent. She didn't really know what to say.

'This has helped, hasn't it?' Kaploffe asked, finally.

Hermione nodded.

'So, you've figured everything out, finally?'

At these words, Hermione's head snapped up and she locked eyes with him. Was it her imagination or were they a bit harder, a little challenging, as though provoking her into answering his double-sided question. She opened her mouth to reply, and then glanced down at the binder in her lap.

'Yes,' she said, after a pause. 'Yes, I've figured everything out.'

Kaploffe's face broke into a broad smile. 'That's brilliant!' he said, enthusiastically. 'I've always known you had it in you, Hermione. Best of luck with the rest of the project.'

Hermione smiled uncertainly back at him. _What?_

'Thank you, sir,' she said, finally. 'I- I should probably go now.'

'Of course, I understand. It's quite late. I'll see you tomorrow then, Hermione.'

'Yes, sir,' she said, meekly. She gathered up the binder in her lap, and pressed both notes against it so they wouldn't fall. Carefully maneuvering herself out of the chair, she turned around and began to walk stiffly, and quickly out of the office.

_Just get out of here,_ she thought, _and make it quick._

She was three steps away from the door, when Kaploffe said, 'Oh, and Hermione?'

She turned. 'Yes, sir?'

He moved quickly. She had no time to see him withdraw his wand, no time to see it aimed directly at her. She did hear him say the words,_ Petrificus Totalus, _though, and saw the jet of bright white light shooting towards her.

* * *

**Author's Note: Well? Was it a surprise? Or just a boring, oh-my-god-isn't-that-obvious sort of scenario?**

**Review?  
**


	40. Tirades and Empty Flats

**CHAPTER 40**

It took Sirius all of five minutes to realize that Hermione wasn't in the flat.

He ran through each of the rooms, checking the bathroom to see if she had strangely changed her mind and slipped back into the tub, and even peering into the little storage cupboard in which she hid her secret stash of romance novels. He came back to the foyer, disturbed and confused, and then hurried back to the kitchen to check if she'd left a post-it on the fridge telling him where she'd be.

Nothing.

Sirius leaned against the counter and ran a hand distractedly through his hair. He couldn't stop the chill creeping through him, the firm conviction that something _was_ wrong. He tried to tell himself that he was being paranoid, but it made no sense. Hermione had been as eager as him to get to Harry and Ron, and he couldn't think of anything that she would assume to be more important.

He glanced around the empty apartment once more, and then decided to check at Grimmauld Place. Apparating with a sharp crack, he was startled to find that it had begun to rain in his brief stop at the apartment. It was a light drizzle, but he winced as stinging drops of rain pierced into his arms and shoulders. He almost lost his balance on the front step of Grimmauld Place, but then caught it again and plunged forward, slipping his spare key into the hole and pushing the front door open. The house was dark: he reminded himself that everyone was at the Burrow.

Still, he had to check. He had no clue where else he could be.

He opened the kitchen door, ran up the stairs to the parlor, and then rushed to the library, trying to persuade himself that a little late night reading while her two, long-lost best friends were waiting for her was something Hermione would do. That room was empty as well, though, and Sirius tried to quash the rising feeling of panic that was creeping into his stomach as he stared, lost, out of the diamond-paned window. Trickles of water were sliding down the glass, casting fragmented, amber speckles of streetlight onto it. If only, he thought, wistfully, he had any way of knowing that Hermione had been here. If only there was someone to check with. Everyone was at the Burrow, though, and if he-

He froze. No. _Everyone _wasn't in the Burrow.

Wheeling around, he began to sprint down the corridor towards Mrs Prattle's room.

* * *

Kaploffe hadn't stunned her, merely bound her body, and so Hermione was fully conscious as her body snapped into a rigid plank and slammed against the desk. She slipped off it and crashed into the floor, unable to wince as a wave of blinding pain past through her. Instead, she merely moved her eyes frantically back and forth, trying to assess her situation.

Kaploffe was calmly lowering his wand. He strode over to his desk, and for a moment Hermione thought he was going to pick her up. Instead, he poured himself a glass of water from a carafe and took a long sip. He lowered it to waist level, and then let his eyes drop to her.

'So you figured it out,' he said, musingly. He seemed to be talking almost to himself. 'I wondered whether you might.'

Hermione longed to reply coldly, but couldn't.

Kaploffe drew back a chair, avoiding her prone body, and then settled himself onto it, crossing his legs as he did so. He seemed perfectly at ease, as though cursing his employees and taking over the wizarding world were things he did on a daily basis.

Which they probably were, Hermione thought bitterly. _Why hadn't I seen?_

'You know, I thought all along that you might be on to us,' Kaploffe said, conversationally. He had folded his arms across his chest and was looking down at her, his eyes leveled firmly on her immobile face. 'Jennifer told me about how you and Black had been into the portal at the Organized Registry. It made me suspect, you know. We tended not to let anyone except our own inside.'

Hermione stared. He had known, _all this time?_

'And then when you came to me for a job, it was too good an opportunity to pass up. I needed to keep a close watch on you, you know. Why do you think I gave you such a senior position?'

He threw back his head and laughed, a short, clipped laugh that was devoid of any humor.

Horror filled Hermione. _What?_ He had given her that position, just so that he could _keep an eye on her?_ Wasn't she brilliant, after all then? She remembered how proud Sirius had been when she got her letter, and suddenly she thought her heart might break.

_I could be there right now, with Sirius and Harry and Ron. If only I hadn't come here. If only I hadn't gotten Rachel's letter._

'I suppose you killed Jennifer,' Kaploffe said, quietly. He had pulled out his wand again, and held it between his fingers on his lap, rolling it around and toying with it. 'I wonder how you found out about that? Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. If there's one thing that I've found, it's that assets are _always _dispensable.'

Hermione felt the bile rise in her throat at his words. They were cold, calculating, ruthless to a degree she never would have imagined him capable off. It reminded her forcefully of operating for the _greater good._

'I've always loathed the Ministry,' Kaploffe said. A film of nostalgia was creeping into his eyes. 'It started when I was an auror, really. I just realized how- how _inefficient_ and bureaucratic everything was. Do you know, there were times when I was face to face with Death Eaters, and I couldn't kill them because the paperwork wasn't in order and a warrant hadn't been issued yet? That was how terrible it was. The laws, the regulations! Not-' he held up a finger, and cast her a chastising look- 'That you should assume I believe in anarchy. I really don't. Anarchy is chaos. It's _lawlessness,_ and trust me I do not want that. What I envisioned was something smaller, more confined: real, undiluted power, held in the hands of those who knew how to wield it. It gave a whole new meaning to the term iron hand in a velvet glove. So simple, and so much more beautiful than anarchy, don't you think?'

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. Each word fell heavily on them, as though they were molded into personal insults. Each phrase, each theory was a basic violation of everything she held human. _It's a dictatorship, _she wanted to say. _That's what you were envisioning. A dictatorship._

'Not that it wasn't difficult,' Kaploffe said. His eyes had drifted away from her now; he was addressing the far wall. 'In my- well, line of work, I suppose you could call it that- personal relationships tend to be a burden. There was- there was Faye. I told you about her, didn't I? She was beautiful, and charming in a way that you so called modern women wouldn't understand. Not independent or smart, but small, and sweet and absolutely _worshiping._ That's what I always loved about her. When she looked at you, you knew that she was practically worshiping you.'

Hermione thought that despite her immobile state, she might puke.

A thin sort of sadness crossed Kaploffe's face. The narrow lines etched beneath his eyes seemed to deepen, suddenly take control over his entire visage.

'Sometimes,' he said, quietly, 'You have to sacrifice. I don't expect you to understand this, but it's true. I should have known better than to get involved with Faye. She became a bit snoopy- she wondered where I used to disappear at times. She probably thought I was having an affair, and she was frightened about Geoffrey's future.'

Something flashed in Hermione's brain. _Geoffrey?_ Where had she heard that name before?

'I asked her to stay in with some cataloging on night, and she decided to go through some of my private files. I think that's when she found out. It was an old manual, something I had found years earlier that spoke of a giant bunker built under the Ministry, one that was used to shelter people during the time of Grindelwald's terror. She put two and two together, and other little tidbits. She found more files, lists of people I was recruiting- it was a full blown operation even then, you see. When I came in the next morning, she was still reading them. She was terrified, poor thing. Asked me what I thought I was doing. She was still screaming when I killed her.'

Hermione felt a cold hand reach around her heart and grasp it tightly. The breath caught in her throat. _He killed her?_

Kaploffe shook his head, sadly. 'I shouldn't have got involved,' he muttered. 'I realized that weeks before I killed her, really. I had to cut off all ties. Come clean. Take care of some- other problems. But finally, after Faye was gone, I had the freedom to take care of things on my own. I shifted departments, continued with recruiting- and look where that's got me, Hermione? Have you seen the amount of power I hold? Have you realized what sort of capability I now possess?'

His face twisted for a moment, into a grotesque caricuture of pride, and then his emotion subsided. He turned his gaze back to her. His eyes were burning, feverishly.

'And then you came along,' he said, shaking his head. 'Poking and prying. I suppose I became a little careless about recruitment. People who still had family ties, people who still whispered secrets. Either way, I knew you were on to something. I can't imagine where you got my note from, though. Either way, Hermione Granger, you know much too much for my comfort.'

Hermione's pupils dilated as he stood up, and flexed his hands. He grasped his wand and pointed it at her, muttering a quick Disillusionment spell. Hermione felt the coldness wash over her as her body faded into a motley of colors that matched exactly the carpet underneath her, and then he was pointing his wand at her again and said, '_Levicorpus.'_

Hermione felt a jolt of panic rush through her as her body heaved into the air and then began floating gently into the air. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling above, a strange taupe color with a grainy texture. She watched it move closer to her, and felt a moment of panic as she wondered whether Kaploffe was going to let her hit it. Then her body jolted to a stop, and she heard Kaploffe moving around beneath her. He adjusted something on his desk, and then she felt a tug of magic at the base of her spine, and her body was moving.

Kaploffe opened the door, his wand still directed to her, and she felt herself move out into the reception. Straining her eyes to the left, she caught sight of Rachel standing up from the desk and grabbing her suede handbag. Her eyes fluttered up when she caught sight of Kaploffe.

'Are you leaving, sir?'

Kaploffe chuckled. It was a hearty, full-throated sound, the kind of laugh that had fooled Hermione into trusting him.

'It's been a long day, Rachel.'

He walked out of the office and down the cream and gold wallpapered corridor, Hermione's body floating obediently after him. She felt panic creep into her, wondered where he was taking her. He did not go to the Atrium, but instead floated her up some flights of stairs: Hermione supposed the lifts would be crowded at this time. It was only when he turned- and she followed- away from the stairs onto a long corridor that she realized where she was going.

The Organized Registry.

* * *

**Author's Note: Oh my god, I am SO embarrassed. I just made the mother of all bloopers. In the last chapter, when I said that she recognized the handwriting from the note in Jennifer Duchamps's apartment, I meant RORAN WHITE'S APARTMENT! I'm so godawful sorry for that, I tried changing it, but apparently I'm Fanfiction spastic because I have no clue how to.**

**Now, moving on.**

**Hope you like this, and review?  
**


	41. Shacks and TVs

**CHAPTER 41**

Sirius didn't bother knocking on Mrs Prattle's door. Instead, he simply shoved it open and rushed inside. She was sitting on the rocking chair, the ball of wool once more in her hands, but this time she was knitting something soft and fluffy with it. The clicking of her needles stopped as Sirius entered, and she looked up, her eyes widened briefly with surprise and then narrowing with contempt.

'It's you, then,' she said, mildly, transferring her attention back to the wool.

Sirius didn't have time for this.

'I need your help,' he bit out, 'Hermione's missing, I can't find her anywhere, and I need to know if she's here.'

Mrs Prattle blinked. 'Do you think I'm hiding her under my bed?'

'I didn't mean that! If you just heard something, or if you know she'd been here-'

'That would be difficult, considering I'm kept captive in this smelly room,' Prattle said, tartly. 'Now go away, I need to finish these mittens.'

Sirius didn't know what made him do it. Perhaps it was frustration, fear or worry. Perhaps it was a combination of all three. But instinctively, he dropped to his knees and wrenched Prattle's wrinkled, old hand into his own, his fingers pressing urgently into hers.

'I need your help, Eva,' he said, desperately. 'Anything. Anything at all that you can tell me.'

Mrs Prattle's beady eyes dropped to him, tinged with surprise. He wasn't sure how exactly he looked, but her features morphed slightly, and she asked, in a somewhat gentler tone, 'Do you think she's been taken.'

Sirius refused to consider the possibility. He turned away.

'Ah,' said Prattle. 'I- oh, I see. Well. In that case, sit down.'

Sirius blinked. 'I don't have time, I-'

'Sit down.'

He sat. Perching himself on the edge of the bed, so he could leap out and run back to the search for Hermione as soon as she was done, he cupped his hands impatiently in his lap and said, 'Well?'

Mrs Prattle sighed heavily and put down her mittens. 'I should have told you this before,' she said, regretfully. 'But I promised Faye, so many years back that I wouldn't. I didn't want to break it, but you- you're leaving me no option.'

Sirius blinked, trying to place the name Faye. Suddenly it came back to him- Geoffrey's aunt.

'What about her?' he asked, impatience biting into his tone.

'Earlier, when you showed me the picture of Roran White, the girl and I had a conversation,' Prattle said, dully.

Sirius's eyes widened, and he jumped up, raising a shaking finger. 'You- you said you didn't recognize him!'

'I lied,' Prattle said, curtly. 'Your wife realized it. She stayed behind with me and tried to pry the information out of me.'

Sirius felt red hot anger bubbling inside him, compounded by the fact that he didn't even no whether Hermione was alive or not. He remembered that Hermione had stayed behind to talk to Mrs Prattle- but he hadn't had a chance to ask her about what, because when she came down they had all been distracted by Harry and Ron's letter...

'What did you talk about?' he asked, heavily.

'She knew that I recognized White. I think it was something in my expression. She tried to pry it out of me, but all I told her was that I had seen him at a friend's place.'

'Why didn't you tell her?' Sirius asked, trying to keep his voice even.

'Because Faye wouldn't have wanted me to. You see, the friend in question was Geoffrey's father.'

Sirius blinked. 'He- you mean Faye's brother? She was his aunt, wasn't she?'

Prattle sighed heavily. 'That's what she told people,' she said, quietly. 'It wasn't entirely true, though. She- she bore Geoffrey out of wedlock, you see. The stigma was- unbearable...'

Sirius's eyes widened. 'Are you trying to tell me that Faye Melloney was Geoffrey's _mother_?'

Prattle nodded. 'The man she was with- he refused to take her publicly. I don't know whether he loved her very much. I knew the arrangement upset her, though. She hated having to lie and sneak around like that. She put a lot of pressure on him. When Geoffrey died, and- and Faye went a few weeks later, I wondered whether maybe he- the father- had gotten sick of her and finally-finally-'

Her voice trailed off, and then she jerked herself back to the present. 'I don't have proof, though. It was just a silly little whim. Nonetheless, I thought I should tell you, because it was at _his_ house that I saw Roran White, which means _he's_ probably involved in all this schmuck. He might know where your wife is.'

Sirius leaned forward and grasped her hand again, squeezing tightly down onto it. 'Who was he?' he breathed, quietly. 'Who was this man?'

Mrs Prattle lowered her eyes, and said, 'Dragomir Kaploffe.'

* * *

Hermione watched the ceilings above her change.

It was pretty much the only indication she had of where she might be. Kaploffe had floated her high up, so that at times the tip of her nose was tickled by crystal droplets that hung off chandeliers. The corridor to the Organized Registry seemed endless. She watched the frosty light fixtures slide by, one by one, trying to make an estimate of how many there were along the corridor to give her a hint as to how far down it they were. Her mind seemed to draw an endless blank, though. The sound of Kaploffe's footsteps: crisp and purposeful, rammed into her brain like icepicks, and she couldn't get the thought of Sirius out of her head.

_He's going to be so worried._

She felt a jolt somewhere in her stomach as they crossed the grilled doors that led to the Organized Registry, and then remembered the first time she had been there: the night after Harry's birthday, when she and Sirius had come to get a divorce. So much had happened since then, she thought, so much had gone awry, and so much had- well, worked out. And who was to think that she would come here six months later being floated by a mass-murderer up on the ceiling.

She heard someone talking below: presumably there was someone new at the desk who was in on the entire operation, because she spoke cordially to Kaploffe and told him to watch the levitating body as he stepped into the closet. He closed the door firmly between them: Hermione wished she could yelp as a few strands of her hair got caught and pulled in it: and then the next moment she felt the magic holding her up tremble as Kaploffe transferred his wand to his left hand, and used his right to push the shelf along its slide. He levitated her body carefully to the staircase, and then Hermione felt herself plummet down step by step, her stomach jolting uncomfortably with each.

She closed her eyes as the ceiling swooped precariously close to her face, and then opened them as a rush of air touched her skin: they had reached the platform from which she and Ginny had first seen the city, months before.

'I don't know if you've been here before,' Kaploffe said, conversationally, as he stepped down from the platform onto one of the streets. He removed the spell from her body, and Hermione realized she was fully visible again: she didn't know how many people were staring at her, though. Kaploffe's voice sounded like it was coming from feet below.

_Which it probably is_, she thought, bitterly. _I have no clue how high he's levitated me._

'This used to be a bunker,' Kaploffe continued. He was walking quicker now. An unexplainable breeze was catching at the ends of her clothes. 'It was used by the Ministry to shelter and hide supplies during Grindelwald's time. It was long forgotten, but I found documents referring to it while I was at the Auror Dep. Do you know it stretches out through a huge chunk of London? The entries into here used by marked by arches, but they fell apart a long time back and they're covered by ordinary buildings and establishments now. It took me quite a while to hunt them out, recruit people to guard them. The one at the Ministry was the hardest. You wouldn't know how difficult it is to set spells on Ministry property.'

Hermione couldn't respond, but Kaploffe chuckled. 'This is where you'll be,' he said, the laughter still edging his voice. 'Come on in.'

He removed the spell with a crack, and Hermione fell to the ground. She felt a wave of pain crash through her shoulder and her head, which hit the concrete flooring with a thud. Her eyes rolled back in her head briefly, and she struggled not to lose consciousness and she felt it ebb slowly from her bones. As her vision returned blearily to her, she propped herself up on her elbows and looked around.

She was in one of the shacks that they had identified on the cameras, where weapons were stored. The shack was small and square, racked up with shelves on all four sides, leading up to a cheap, white-washed ceiling. The shelves were filled with boxes, each taped firmly shut and labeled. It was empty, save for a small chair in one corner. Before Hermione could react, Kaploffe had strode up to her and was hauling her into his arms. Hermione attempted struggling, but she was still disoriented from her fall, and Kaploffe had no difficulty throwing her down on the chair and flicking his wand, so that ropes snapped out of it and bound her arms behind her back, and her feet to the legs of the chair.

'There we go,' he muttered, panting slightly from the effort of picking her up. 'I'd love to stay behind and deal with you right now, but I'm afraid there's something I'm going to need to do first.'

He flashed her a quick grin, the sort of broad, dimpled, George Clooney grin that had tricked her into trusting him in the first place, and then turned. His cloak whipped behind him as he exited the shack and spelled it shut behind him.

Hermione groaned and let her head slump against the back of her chair, wishing that the pain would pass. She still felt slightly dizzy, and as though she may throw up any minute. She focused on breathing evenly, trying to assess her situation as she did so. She was wandless, tied to a chair with no hope of escape, and nobody knew where she was.

She groaned. _Brilliant._

She leaned forward, and as she did she felt something stir and jab her from the pocket of her coat. For a moment she frowned, and then she remembered exactly what it was:

_Kaploffe's lighter. I took it from his office. If I could just- if I-_

She considered this for a few moments. If she could somehow wriggle the lighter out, she could maybe burn the ropes holding her, and then-

Her train of thought cut off sharply as the door clicked open and Kaploffe entered the shack again.

* * *

Before he knew it, Sirius was running out of the room. He wasn't conscious of anything except the way the blood was pounding in his ears, and his heart was ramming painfully in his chest. Mrs Prattle's words seem to echo in his head. _Dragomir Kaploffe. Dragomir Kaploffe!_

He felt fear,mingled with rage, stirring within him. Hermione had trusted him! Hermione had trusted that rotting, no-good bastard, and the whole time he had been-

He screeched to a halt outside Roran White's room, and slammed the door open. The latter was sitting on his bed, flipping through a book. His glasses were on the bedside table behind him. He looked up with surprise as Sirius entered.

'What hap-?'

'Kaploffe!' Sirius snapped. 'Did you know?'

Roran blinked, a look of fear creeping into his voice. 'Kap- you mean the guy in the Legislative Dep? What about him?'

'It was him! He's in on this! He's probably the one who killed Carla!'

Roran's eyes widened, his brows tickling his hairline. He got up and took a step towards Sirius.

'I- how do you know?'

'Prattle,' Sirius grunted. He was aware that he wasn't making any sense, but he didn't care. 'I- he- it was in our face the whole time! Hermione even thought Jennifer was having an affair with him! Or trying to, anyway-'

'Jennifer?' Roran laughed, and then stopped with alarm, seeing the look in Sirius's eyes. 'I mean- she _did_ spend a lot of time with him, that's true. I always though- I don't know, where's Hermione.'

'Gone,' Sirius grunted. 'I don't know where she is, he must have taken her somewhere. If only I had some way of knowing-'

He froze, and his eyes widened, as a thought crossed his mind.

'The cameras,' he breathed.

Roran looked surprised. 'What?'

'The cameras! The TV's upstairs, in my old room! If he took her to the city-'

He whirled around and raced up the stairs, Roran hesitating for a moment and then rushing up after him. Sirius pushed open the door to his old room and skidded in. The TV was on, but the armchair was deserted, a plate of half-eaten sandwiches beside it on a coffee table. Sirius knew it was Tonks's turn to monitor, but she was at the Burrow with the others.

He strode to the TV and then leaned in front of it, nose practically touching the screen. 'If he brings her here, we'll know,' he muttered. 'I just wish he'd hurry up. I want to get out there, and-'

Roran came up from behind him, and gently touched his shoulder. Sirius looked up with surprise.

'Go,' Roran said, gently. 'Go and look for her. It doesn't make sense for you to sit on this armchair when you so clearly want to be outside.'

Sirius blinked. 'But if I don't watch-'

'I will,' Roran interrupted. 'Look, you have a cellphone, don't you?'

Sirius blinked, and pulled out his phone. Roran pulled out one from the kangaroo pocket of his sweatshirt, and flipped it open.

'Hang on, let me feed your number into it. I'll give you a missed call. If I see anything, I'll call you straight away.'

Sirius hesitated, and then said, 'Are you sure- I-'

'I'm sure,' Roran said, quickly. He moved forward, and sat down deliberately on the armchair. 'You go ahead. I'll hold fort here.'

* * *

**Author's Note: Again, not very long, but in my defense I'm updating quickly. **

**Happy reading. =D  
**


	42. Cellphones and Charms

**CHAPTER 42**

Hermione stopped struggling as soon as Kaploffe entered the room. She let her hands go slack- despite the fact that her fingers were tingling from how tightly she was trussed up, and raised what she hoped was a cold eyebrow as he closed the door behind him and slowly took off his cloak. Something glittered in the palm of his hand.

'What's that?' she demanded, as he walked towards her.

Kaploffe didn't immediately answer. He pulled a wand out of his pocket and inspected it for a moment. With a jolt of anger, Hermione realized that it was hers.

'In my office,' Kaploffe said, seeing the expression on her face. 'I suppose you dropped it when I stunned you. I just popped back up to tell Rachel she could go home. Oh, and to get- this-'

He opened out his hand in front of her, and Hermione caught sight a thick-cut crystal vial with a cork stopper. It was filled with a clear liquid that sloshed like water against its glittering sides.

'Veritaserum,' Kaploffe said, calmly, and Hermione felt her stomach freeze with horror. 'I need to take care of a few loose ends. Open your mouth, I need you to drink this.'

_No, _Hermione thought, desperately, _no, this can't be happening. _She didn't even want to contemplate the secrets that Kaploffe could drag out of her. She clamped her mouth shut and shook her head from side to side, pleased to note that the icily obstinate expression didn't leave her face. Kaploffe looked mildly bored. Leaning forward, he grabbed her jaw with his right hand, his fingers digging painfully into her skin. He spread the middle and thumb fingers of his left, and jabbed them deeply into the sensitive area in front of her ears. Of its own accord, Hermione's mouth opened, and she watched in horror as Kaploffe uncapped the bottle and carefully measured three drops into her mouth.

Her first instinct was to not swallow, but Hermione knew that it was hopeless. The potion was tasteless, and she had ingested too little to stop it from dissolving on her tongue and trickling down her throat. She knew instinctively when it kicked in, because she felt a little fuzzy- as though she were floating gently, and didn't have a care in the world. She tried to gather herself but it was difficult, and when Kaploffe leaned forward with a purposeful expression, Hermione automatically realized that she was going to answer any question he asked her.

She expected him to ask her how they had found out about the operation. After all, he probably worried that there were kinks in the system he would have to smooth out, loose ends to knot.

'Where are the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix?' he asked.

Hermione's eyes widened, and she felt a chill creeping over her even in her befuddled state. Kaploffe's eyes were focused determinedly on her, and to her horror, she heard herself replying.

'At No. 12, Grimmauld Place.'

Kaploffe leaned back, his expression morphing to one of satisfaction, and at the same time Hermione felt a tug of magic somewhere inside her, something that disconnected from her and rushed towards him: he was a secret keeper as well, now. The sensation was familiar: she remembered it from when she had apparated Yaxley into the house. She closed her eyes briefly, and then snapped them open again as Kaploffe asked his next question.

'Who all are at the house right now?'

Hermione felt a flood of relief at this one. No one, she thought, hysterically, because everybody was at the Burrow. Even if Kaploffe knew where the Order was, he wouldn't be able to act tonight, which gave her some time to try and free herself and warn the others. But as she opened her mouth to say this, something stopped her. With a sinking feeling, she realized what it was.

To the best of her knowledge, there _were_ still two people at Grimmauld Place. Two people who _wouldn't _be at the Burrow, because Harry and Ron's return meant nothing to them.

'Eva Prattle,' she said, dully, 'and Roran White.'

For a split second, she almost thought it was worth it just to see Kaploffe's expression at her words. His eyes widened, thick brows nearly touching his hairline, and his face paled immediately. Hermione knew that he was visibly shocked: he had probably never dreamed that the Order was so involved in his little game plan. But this might lead to more uncomfortable questioning, she reminded herself, grimly, which was _definitely_ something she didn't want.

Kaploffe's cleared his throat, drew a hand across his brow. He seemed to be trying to regain his composure.

'Eva Prattle,' he said, with a forced calm. 'Where did you find her?'

'Tonks picked her up the night of Carla's death. She was the only witness. We brought her back to Grimmauld Place and kept her there for her own safety.'

Kaploffe brought a hand to his face and stroked his jaw. As he did so, the sleeve of his robe slid down to his elbow.

'Eva Prattle,' he said, slowly. 'I know her. She used to- teach...'

Hermione's eyes widened as she wondered how the hell Kaploffe knew that.

'And Roran White,' Kaploffe said, shaking his head and transferring his attention back to her. 'What a surprise. I must say, his brother and he turned out to be quite a disappointment. I've been looking for him for a long time. Where did you find him?'

'I didn't find him, he found me,' Hermione said, mechanically. She was watched the way Kaploffe stroked his jaw, intensely disliking the long slopes of his fingers. 'He worked as a janitor in the Ministry. He was under your nose the entire time.'

Kaploffe looked visibly surprised again. His eyebrows rose, and he lifted his hand to rub his nose.

At which point Hermione saw a thin, uneven white scar running across his forearm. She closed her eyes as she remembered what Prattle had told them the first time they had asked her about the cloaked man at Carla and Derek's house.

'It was you,' she said, in a subdued tone. 'You killed Carla. You were the cloaked figure.'

Kaploffe raised an eyebrow, but chose not comment. Instead, he stood up, brushing his hands on the knees of his robes as he did so. He drug his cloak back on and pocketed her wand and the vial of Veritaserum again.

Hermione wondered apprehensively whether he was going to curse her, but he simply yanked the door of the shack open, and strode out.

She thought she could hazard a guess as to where he was going.

* * *

Sirius paused for a moment and drew in a deep, juddering breath as he killed the engine of Remus's car and glanced about the street. It was late enough that it was almost empty, and cold enough that the few people who were crossing by did so hurriedly, their hands jammed firmly into their pockets. Across the curb, the gleaming red telephone booth that led to the Ministry reposed silently.

He thought of the owl that he had sent to the Burrow, a quick, hastily scrawled message that he hoped they would be able to decipher. He wasn't stupid enough to think he could take down the city without their help: but he was also smart enough to know that every second he wasted could be Hermione's last. He yanked open the car door and hastily raced across the street to the booth, punching the buttons clumsily and collecting his badge from the slot.

As he clutched the small square of metal in his hand, he wondered what exactly he was doing. He had no fixed plan, no sense of direction of the city save for the blueprints and whatever they had seen on the camera. He didn't even know if Hermione was there. It was risky and stupid, and he almost smiled wondering what Remus would say if he knew. Instead, he slipped his hand into his trench coat pocket and cupped the cellphone that nestled there. He had set it to vibrate mode, and was constantly checking to see if Roran had called.

So far: nothing.

He walked quickly down the Atrium, marveling at how empty the Ministry was. The elevator was waiting on the ground floor, and he pushed the grilled doors shut with unnecessary violence. As it began jolting up, he suddenly began to wish that he had thought to borrow Harry's invisibility cloak. Instead, he buttoned up his coat all the way to his chin and slouched down into it, trying to shake his hair over his brow. It was useless, he realized. He would have to use a Disillusionment Charm and hope for the best.

He walked quickly down the corridor to the Organized Registry. Pushing open the grilled doors, he caught sight of a freckled red-head who was sitting at the Registrar desk and flipping through a magazine. She looked up with a bored expression as Sirius walked in, but he sensed a grim suspicion behind it. He dug his hand into his pocket and curved it around his wand.

'Can I help you?' she asked, cautiously.

'I need to go into the storage cupboard,' Sirius said, pleasantly.

The girl's eyes widened and she stared blankly at him for a few seconds, before they narrowed again. Sirius recognized her morphing expression: it was the same one on Jennifer's face a split second before she tried to kill him. Quick as a flash, he drew out his wand and snapped, '_Stupefy!'_

A red jet of light soared out of his wand, and the girl slumped to the ground. Sirius didn't bother to check where she landed: he was already racing past, wrenching open the door of closet and fastening his hands onto the metallic shelf. He grunted as he pushed it, and then slumped back for a moment as it moved along its slide. The minute the passage way beyond came into sight, he cast a quick Disillusionment charm on himself and passed through.

He was just about to start descending the staircase when the cellphone in his pocket buzzed.

Sirius yanked it out and flipped it open. Roran's name flashed across the CID.

'Hello?' he asked, in a hoarse whisper.

'Sirius? I got her!'

Sirius felt his heart thump violently. 'Where? How is she?'

'She's probably been better. You were right- Kaploffe has her. He's stupefied her, and he's levitating her body in there.'

Sirius's eyes widened. '_What?'_

'You heard me. He's taken her into some sort of low slung shack. White washed. Sloping roof.'

'The artillery,' Sirius said, immediately. He began climbing down the stairs as quickly and quietly as he could, the cellphone pressed to his ear. 'Anything going on?'

'No, he's shut the door. Hang on- he's coming out again.'

'Where's he going?' Sirius demanded. 'Keep a close eye on him!'

'Yeah I am. He's walking due north, and he's heading to some sort of raised podium. It has a grilled area, and a staircase leading up somewhere.'

Sirius froze in his tracks. 'What?' he whispered.

'You heard me. Okay, he's climbing up the podium. Yup, he's on the stairs.'

Sirius felt his heart freeze. He recognized the description immediately: the portal that led to the Organized Registry.

The staircase on which he was currently standing.

'I'll talk to you later,' he whispered, and snapped his phone shut. Stowing it in his coat pocket and praying that Kaploffe would take a while to climb the stairs, he turned around and raced up. He could hear footsteps, steady and even-paced starting at the bottom and moved even faster, getting to the closet and then sliding the shelf back into place. He closed the storage cupboard firmly behind him and then bent down behind the office desk.

The redhead he had earlier stunned was lying comatose on the floor. Sirius debated for a split second as to what to do, and then turned his wand to her and whispered, 'Enervate.'

Her eyes flickered open. Sirius registered that they were blue, and in the split second it took him to do that he had pointed his wand at her again and said, 'Imperio!'

Immediately, the redhead's eyes glazed over, and Sirius felt a strange tug at his wand arm, a stream of magical consciousness that linked them. He flexed it, testing how strong it was, and then heard the noise of the shelf inside the storage cupboard being moved. Instinctively, he dropped to his knees and crawled under the desk, simultaneously directing the redhead to get to her feet and settle down again on her chair. Just as he tucked his feet out of sight, the cupboard door slammed open and Kaploffe strode out.

Sirius twitched his wand. The redhead looked up at Kaploffe and registered surprise.

'Is something wrong, sir?'

'Have to pick up something from my office,' he said, briskly. 'I'll be back.' He was gone in a matter of seconds.

Sirius debated what to do, and then decided it was safest to remain in this position until Kaploffe returned. He made the redhead pick up the magazine she had been reading and continue flipping through it. She was completely passive, obviously unused to the spell. She had just turned the page for the fifth time when Sirius heard Kaploffe come back.

The redhead glanced up, but this time Kaploffe simply strode past. He disappeared into the closet, and pulled back the shelf. Sirius waited for another five minutes, and then, taking out his cellphone, he dialed Roran's number.

Roran picked up on the first ring.

'What happened?'

'I almost bumped into Kaploffe, but it's okay. Can you get anything?'

'No, I- hang on. Kaploffe's back in here. He's heading to the shack again, I think.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yup. He's going in. Where are you?'

'In the Registry. I'm heading back in. Keep me posted if you see anything.'

Sirius snapped the phone shut and jammed it into his pocket. He stood up, flexing his knees, and then aimed his wand at the redhead, stupefying her again and this time adding a memory loss charm along with it. He watched her slump back down and rolled her body under the desk, pushing the chair closer to hide it. Then, he headed back into the closet, made sure his Disillusionment charm was intact, and started down the staircase again.

This time, Roran didn't call. Sirius walked quickly, making a mental note of the number of turns before it opened out onto the broad platform. He took a deep breath and stepped out onto it.

The entire city lay spread out before him.

For a second, Sirius felt a stark vulnerability, an emotion he hadn't experienced since Azkaban. His eyes roved helplessly around the huge complex, and wondered exactly what they were up against.

Then, he took a deep breath and resolved himself. He focused his gaze on the low-slung shack, close enough to the platform he was standing on.

Hermione was in there, and that was where he was going.

* * *

**Author's Note: Again, inexcusably late. But I'm trying, I promise. **

**Incidentally, not that this is related to anything, but I just bought the most awesome pair of shoes and I'm still a little high on them. Yay! =D**

**Review?  
**


	43. Guns and Owls

**CHAPTER 43**

Hermione waited till she heard the door click behind Kaploffe before she began to squirm again.

Her head was still fuzzy from the potion and her movements were clumsy. Twisting to either side, she tried to maneuver herself into such a position that the lighter fell out of her pocket. It was deeply wedged in though, and she growled impatiently to herself as she wrenched her shoulder back and began swinging back and forth.

'Almost there,' she muttered to herself, as she felt the lighter slide in the folds of her pocket. 'Almost. Almost the-'

She added an extra heave, and to her horror, felt the chair teeter to the left for a moment, its center of balance swaying wildly. It shifted, and Hermione had a split second to register that she was mid-air, before she fell with a resounding crash to the ground- for the _second_ time that day.

The air in her lungs came out in a sharp gasp, and she simply lay on the ground, still trussed uncomfortably to the chair, for a moment. She tried to gather her wits, and then realized that she was lying on her left side, her temple seemed to be bleeding, and that the lighter had slipped out of her pocket and clattered to the ground nearby.

Her eyes widened as she caught sight of its neon-yellow form, and she began to wriggle towards it, the chair scraping with her across the ground. It had fallen behind her, so when she felt she was close enough she began to grope around with her hands, which were still tied behind the chair. The ground felt rough and slid sharply across her nails. She suppressed a shudder, and continued to scrabble about until she felt her hand close around cold glassiness.

She closed her eyes briefly and heaved a sigh of relief as she twisted around her thumb and clicked it. She felt a flash of pain at her wrist, but bit her lip determinedly: she had known she was going to burn herself at some point of time in the process. She tried pushing the lighter further down her palm and lit it again: she could still feel the hot flare of fire, but with less of a sting. She continued to click it, each sharp noise adding a smidgen of hope to her.

The pain increased, the hot flare biting into her skin. Hermione closed her eyes tightly, gritting her teeth and willing herself to ignore it. There came a point when it became so intense that she felt almost as though she switched off: her mind going completely, blissfully blank, her finger clicking the lighter as though on automatic. She felt the room spin lightly around her, grateful that her eyes were closed. It was only when she felt the rope snap, stray threads breaking musically, and falling like water off her wrists that she opened them.

She blinked.

The room spun for a moment, and then slowly came back into focus. She felt the slight ache and tingling of blood rushing back into her hands, and her fingers. She brought them in front of her, and began to grind them together, trying to massage the pain out of her fingers. When they felt a bit better, she began attacking the knots at her feet.

It was tough work because she couldn't see what she was doing, her knees blocking her view, but Kaploffe hadn't paid much attention to tightening the knots and after about five minutes, Hermione felt the last one give way. She tugged the rope loose, pulled it off and then tried to get to her feet. Immediately, she stumbled, but she gritted her teeth and tried again, this time holding onto the wall for support. Slowly, the blood began to run back to her feet and when, a few minutes later, she experimentally took a few steps, she found that she had pretty much regained her balance.

Hermione thanked god for the lighter, and slipped it into her pocket. She grabbed up her wand from where Kaploffe had left it, and began to ponder what to do.

'Immediate objective: Grimmauld Place,' she muttered. 'He's probably going there. I need to alert them, somehow-'

She picked up her wand, and muttered, 'Expecto Patronum.'

Nothing happened.

Hermione blinked and tried again.

'Expecto Patronum.'

She waited expectantly for the silvery whoosh to shot out her wand and morph into a sleek otter, but still nothing. She shook her wand impatiently and growled to herself.

'Expecto Patronum. _Expecto Patronum! _I SAID EXPECTO PATRONUM, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!'

She rattled her wand violently, but nothing came out. Swearing to herself, Hermione wondered whether Kaploffe had set some sort of anti-summoning charm on the city: something that prevented people from calling for help. She had no way to test it, though, so she clutched her wand firmly in her hand and re-evaluated her options.

_I need to get out of here. I need to get to Grimmauld Place NOW. That bastard might still be there, and I have to hurry up and get to him before he gets to the others._

She glanced around the shack, trying to figure if there was any way out of it. She knew that Kaploffe had locked the door behind him, because she'd heard him pull a bolt across it. The shack was small, a confined, claustrophobic space that was made worse with the shelves. There were no windows around. She walked up to one of the shelves and inspected it: an array of cardboard cartons, all firmly taped up, stood neatly side-by-side on it. She tried to peel off the tape but it stuck firm. Digging into her pocket, she pulled out the lighter again and set to work.

Burning through the tape was long-winded, tedious work. Hermione tried to angle to the lighter as best as she could, but chunks of the cardboard got singed and began to crumble into itself. She worked her way through a thick section of tape, and then when she felt that it had become weak enough, she dug her fingers into it and ripped it apart.

As the box came apart in her hands, Hermione caught sight of something metallic. Her eyes widened as its contents lay exposed before her.

It looked like _guns._

She frowned as she dipped a hand into the box, tracing one of the forms with the tip of her index finger: it was hard and cold, polished to a gleam. She lifted it out and was surprised to find how heavy it was, how large it felt in her hand. She stretched her fingers around it, gripping it by the handle and positioned one finger by the trigger.

_What is it? A revolver? A pistol?_

The gun felt strangely obscene in her hand, awkward and a bit redundant. She dropped it back into the box, wincing when it made a loud clanging noise, and transferred her wand to her right hand. Much better, she thought, heaving a sigh of relief. Neater, cleaner, more efficient, just like all magical-

She froze and her eyes snapped open wide.

'Of course,' she breathed. 'That's what this is about. It's _magic._'

She stumbled backwards a few steps, and leaned heavily against the wall. Her wand trembled slightly in her fingers.

Random memories were flashing through her head: Kaploffe, sitting opposite her in his office and saying, '_It's just so inefficient!'. _Sirius and she, stuck in the cupboard and unable to apparate out of it, although Ginny's silencing charm worked fine the time she had wrenched the shelf off the wall. Her patronus, refusing to materialize.

Kaploffe was trying to create a _non-magical_ environment.

It made so much sense to her now, falling into neat little pieces in her mind. _That_ was what the whole conspiracy was about: not getting rid of Mudbloods or suppressing Muggles, but suffocating _magic_. She remembered everything Kaploffe had told her about a clean, dictatorial community, a place where rules were followed. Absolutely impossible, she realized, when wizards could use magic. It simply made things too _easy._ If she wanted to, she could simply summon an object out of someone else's house and never worry about being caught for theft. She could wave her wand at someone under her coat, say a few quiet words, and that person could drop dead with no outward signs of being attacked. Magic, if used irresponsibly, could be _mayhem_, and that was exactly what Kaploffe didn't want.

How, then, she mused, did the spells work over _here_. Apparition was obviously out of the point. She had known it as soon as she realized what the city was: it's entire territory, and portals (read: the storage cupboard at the Organized Registry) did not have the option of apparition. On the other hand, Ginny's silencing charm had worked just fine, and Kaploffe was able to levitate her and tie her to a chair-

But her Patronus wouldn't materialize.

Could it be that the city was wired to accept only that magic which was used to _execute_, and not to defend? Magic that didn't let people inside easily, but trapped them in when they did. Magic that prevented them from accessing or calling for help. Magic that could be used by a new, terrifying form of government to implement and cow down the wizarding population, that didn't have the ability to defend themselves in these premises?

_That man is one wily bastard._

She turned to look down at the wand, clutched loosely in her right hand, and waved it about.

'Protego,' she tried.

Nothing. No magical energy shielding her.

She pointed it at the chair she had been tied to.

'Wingardium Leviosa.'

Again, nothing. But she knew from experience that if she pointed it to a person, she could levitate them or bind them to a chair.

She turned back to the box with the guns. Maybe they would come in useful after all.

* * *

'Where did Sirius go?' Ginny asked, coming up behind Harry and easing her palms against his forehead. He closed his eyes and relaxed into her touch. It had been a while since he had felt it.

'He's gone to talk to Hermione,' he said, absently.

Ginny moved in front of him, a concerned expression on her face. 'Really? Why isn't she here, by the way? I'd have thought she'd be pounding against the windows by now.'

'Sirius said she was taking a bath, but he didn't know what was keeping her. He went to check.' Harry raised his champagne glass to his mouth and took a long drag, feeling the alcohol relax his muscles. 'He didn't know about- you know-'

Ginny nodded, her expression grave. 'I asked Hermione not to tell anyone. Did you-?'

'I told him. He's my godfather.'

Ginny nodded again. She leaned forward and rested her chin against his shoulder. 'I missed you,' she mumbled, her voice muffled against his robes. 'I'm so glad you're back.'

Harry twisted his neck and kissed her temple. 'I am too.'

Something tapped at the window. Harry turned, and caught sight of a tawny owl hovering precariously beyond the glass. As he watched, he leaned forward and knocked impatiently on it again.

'Do you recognize that owl?' he asked, unlocking Ginny's arms from around him and heading to the window. Ginny frowned and followed him.

'I think that's Sirius's,' she said, slowly.

Harry unbolted the window and pulled it open, wincing as a cold blast of air hit him. The owl hooted with relief and hopped in, extending its leg in the same movement. He untied the torn scrap of parchment that was tied to it and unrolled it against his palm.

The next moment, his eyes had widened and he had turned around with a frantic movement.

'They've got Hermione!' he choked, feeling the air catch in his lungs.

* * *

**Author's Note: Writer's block, what to do?**

**Review?**

**For those who care, the shoes were caged black leather six inch heels.**

**Now do you realize why I'm so in love with them?  
**


	44. Surprises and Strategies

**CHAPTER 43**

Sirius shrank into the shadow of a rickety wooden shack, and waited while an armored man walked past him. The road he had been walking on, a cobbled lifeline that cut across the city, was broad enough that it was rare for someone to actually cut his path, but his nerves felt like they were being rubbed against a grater, high-strung and alert. His instincts shrieked bloody murder anytime someone came within six feet of him, which meant that his progress to the Artillery was slow and ruptured.

He couldn't help but feel nervous. The disillusionment charm he had cast on himself was a powerful one, but he knew that any wizard worth his wand would be able to discern the ripple in the air if he was paying attention. Luckily, no one had been too perceptive until now, but it went against his grain to be careless. Accordingly, he pressed his back against the wall of shack, his robes rustling ever so lightly against the grainy whitewash, and waited for the soldier to pass by.

The soldier wore a thick helmet on his head, with a neat slice cut out in front of his eyes. His torso and thighs were similarly clad, with paper-thin, jointed sheets of metal that could move easily and be borne without too much effort. They had an unnatural shine, which Sirius discerned was from some magical energy that had been used to reinforce the metal. His gaze trailed back to the soldier's face, and stopped at his eyes: they were cold and dark, fixed ahead with a disconcerting firmness.

He waited for the soldier to pass and then cautiously stepped back on the road. He scanned the area in front of him, noticing with some relief that the path ahead was empty for a good hundred yards. He sighed with relief and was about to move forward when the cellphone in his pocket vibrated.

His nerves were so high-strung that he jumped two feet into the air at the unfamiliar sensation, and then let out a soft curse when his feet hit the ground with a muffled thump. He snapped back into the shadows and glanced around nervously as he pulled the cellphone out of his pocket. It was Roran.

'Why are you calling me? I'm inside, it's too-'

'Kaploffe left Hermione alone.'

Sirius blinked. 'What?'

'He left the shack a good ten minutes ago.'

'Ten minutes? _Ten minutes? _And you're calling me _now?'_

'Poor reception underground. I've trying to call ever since I saw him leave. He went to the raised platform and up a spiral of stairs.'

Sirius exhaled. 'The portal. He'll wind up in the Ministry. You're sure he hasn't returned since? His last visit out was pretty short.'

'Yup, I'm sure. And no one's entered the shack, so Hermione's probably alone. You should run.'

'I will,' Sirius promised, cutting the call. He checked once again to make sure that the road was relatively empty, and set off down it again.

* * *

'How the hell do I work this thing?'

The gun felt obscenely large and heavy in Hermione's hand. She wrapped her fingers around the handle, stretching out her index finger to reach the trigger. She had already checked the magazine and determined that it was loaded: to the best of her knowledge (and while that was extensive, it didn't include the working of firearms) all she had to do now was pull the trigger and hope her aim was right.

'So what's the POA?' she muttered, glancing around the shack once more. The door was locked and it was entirely windowless, but even if it hadn't been she highly doubted that walking down the street and shooting everyone in her way was the best option. She could, of course, disillusion herself and creep out to the portal, but that left an entirely different problem: Kaploffe. The equation was entirely different now. He _knew_ that she knew, and she highly doubted that he would let her walk away from this unscathed. Not to mention that he now knew exactly where Order headquarters was (she tried not to entertain the thought that he was, in all probability, there right _now_) and she had no place to hide.

Which meant that she had to take down Kaploffe before she left.

She would do it, she decided. She would sit back down on the chair, and cross her hands behind the back support so it looked like she was still tied up. Kaploffe wouldn't dream that she actually had a gun in her hand, finger positioned expectantly over the trigger. She would wait until he was close enough that her chances of missing him were negligible, and then she would shoot him in the head.

She crossed over to the box she had pulled the gun from and pushed the tape back onto the cardboard, re-sealing it so nobody would notice that it had been broken into. She re-pocketed the lighter and her wand, and then sat back on the chair, crossing her arms behind her back. Her wrist had become accustomed to the weight of the gun now: it didn't feel like a violation of her senses anymore. Rather, it filled her with an uneasy sense of security.

She had been waiting for four or five tension-wracked, high-strung minutes, when she heard light footsteps outside the shack. Her ears, sensitized to her somewhat precarious condition, pricked up. The noise of clearly discernible: someone was walking up to the door of the shack.

Her fingers tightened around the gun, and she drew in her breath and waited. The knob turned slightly, and she heard a catch as it was pushed open a fraction of an inch.

_Any minute now._

The door slid open a millimeter more, and Hermione suddenly heard an entirely-welcome husky voice.

'Herms? Are you in there?'

'Sirius!'

She had dropped the gun and sprung out of the chair in a second. The door to the shack opened, and the air before it rippled. It was already closing when Hermione identified a Disillusionment charm. A second later, and Sirius was standing before her, indescribable relief etched on his face.

'Thank god!' he said, yanking her towards him and clutching her tightly. He leaned back for a moment, and said, 'What the hell were you thinking, vanishing on me like that?'

'Sirius, it was Kaploffe!'

'I know.'

Hermione blinked. 'You _know?_'

'Sure. But tell me what happened to you, first.'

Hermione tried to take a calming breath. 'I got a letter from Rachel,' she said, after a pause. 'She was calling me down to the office, and she said it was urgent. It turned out to be crap, but Kaploffe had left a binder for me in his office, and when I went in to get it I realized that the handwriting on the note he left me was the same as the one on the note we found in Roran White's apartment.'

Sirius sucked in his breath. 'You realized this in his _office_?'

'Bad timing, I know. It gets worse. He walked in while I was still in there and figured everything out. Sirius, this operation is huger than we think. It's been going on for _years. _He brought me here, and gave me veritaserum, and-'

'Are you hurt?' Sirius interrupted. 'Did he hurt you?'

'No, he just force-fed me some. Sirius, he knows about Grimmauld Place!'

Sirius groaned, and raised a hand to his face. 'He knows?'

'I couldn't help it, he asked me, and the potion-'

'It's not your fault, Herms.'

'I managed to get loose, and then I found this.'

Hermione kicked the chair aside, and pointed to the gun lying on the floor. 'See those boxes? They're filled with them. He- he was talking to me about a non-magical environment, about _dictatorship, _and-'

'Wait,' Sirius said, suddenly. 'Wait.'

Hermione broke off and stared expectantly at him, panic tinging her facial figures.

'He asked you about Grimmauld Place and then left?'

Hermione swallowed and nodded.

'Holy shit. Herms- Roran and Prattle are there!'

Hermione nodded. 'I realized. There's no chance they're at the Bu-'

'No, they're not, I just saw them! I went there to check if you had stopped by, and Prattle said that- no, wait I'll tell you later. Roran's in front of the TV we have wired to this place right now. He was giving me a running commentary on Kaploffe's and your movements on my cellphone.'

Hermione's face whitened.

'Call him,' she said, in a strangled voice. 'Sirius, call him and tell him to get both of them out there _right now!'_

Sirius was already rummaging in his pocket and pulling out his cellphone. He muttered a prayer under his breath as he punched Roran's number, and pressed it to his ear.

'Well?' Hermione asked, ten seconds later.

Sirius turned to her, his expression grave.

'He's not picking up.'

* * *

'What do we do?' Harry asked, grimly.

They were clustered around the table at the Burrow, expressions grave and concerned. Molly sat with her hands pressed against her forehead. Ginny looked like she might be sick.

'What we always planned,' Remus said, slowly. 'A direct attack.'

Kingsley wheeled around to face him. 'What?'

'We don't have a choice,' Remus said. His voice was heavy, as though he was trying to process the implications of his words. 'If they've taken Hermione, they _know._ We don't have the element of surprise anymore. In fact, they do.'

'We aren't prepared-'

'Every second we take thinking about this is a waste!'

'Remus, we will get _flattened _down there. There's just so many of us, but they're better prepared. We can't-'

'DAMN IT, KINGSLEY, WE DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR THIS!'

The table lapsed into silence for a moment. Then, Kingsley said, 'What do you think we should do?'

'Divide into groups,' Remus said, carefully. 'And go in there. We have one advantage: we know their weaknesses. We need to plan our attack around those.'

Ron spoke for the first time since Sirius's letter had arrived. 'Harry and I don't know-'

'We'll fill you in, quick,' Remus said. 'Arthur: you have a copy of the blueprints here, don't you?'

Arthur nodded. He left the kitchen, and then returned a minute later holding the rolled up scrolls carefully. Remus flattened them out against the table, and pointed to the compact, square shacks.

'These are artilleries,' he said, 'They have the main store of weapons. Obviously a weakness. We wouldn't want to destroy this, because a lot of them have gunpowder and we don't know how that will react to magical energy. No, we need to cut off _their _access to them.'

'How do we do that?' Harry asked, frowning.

Remus looked thoughtful. Then, his face brightened. 'A forcefield,' he said, glancing up and around the table. 'If we could get in, and effect a forcefield around both, we could keep them out. They wouldn't be able to access their weapons.'

'Forcefields are difficult magic to operate,' said Arthur.

Tonks and Kingsley glanced at each other. The former spoke.

'We know,' she said, 'Kingsley and I. It was part of Auror training.'

'It's you, then,' said Remus. 'The two of you will have to get into a shack each and create a forcefield. If you need backup, you can-'

Kingsley shook his head. 'This is an operation of stealth. We'll need to get in without them seeing us. Backup would just be a hindrance.'

'Are you sure you can do this alone?' Remus asked. His worried expression as directed towards Tonks.

She nodded, lightly. 'I'm not an Auror for nothing, honeybunch.'

Remus nodded, but his expression remained tense. He turned his attention to a large circle with a hatched circumference.

'A field,' he said, shortly. 'The armies train here. There's a huge reserve of soldiers here at all times.'

'Do we- kill them?' Harry asked, uneasily.

A cold silence filled around the table. Every face looked like it was being ravaged by a moral dilemma.

'Yes,' Remus said, finally. 'The ones we can't control. You can't imperio a field full of wizards with a couple of wands.' Beside him, Kingsley nodded in agreement.

'They all chose to be down there,' he said. 'They all chose to work against wizard kind. We don't have the time or opportunity to be merciful.'

Harry nodded, his eyes unhappy. 'Alright,' he said, quietly. 'How do we work that?'

Remus frowned, his face screwing up with concentration.

'We need four people,' he said, finally. 'They can work the cardinal points. If you disillusion yourself and go down there, you can kill a huge bunch before the others even realize something's up.'

'Ron and I can go,' Harry said.

'I'm coming,' said Ginny, firmly.

Harry, and her parents turned to face her with furious expressions.

'No,' Harry said, forcefully.

'I want to help.'

'Ginny, you're underestimating the effects of-' her father began.

'I said I want to help.'

Her mother looked livid. 'You're just a-'

'_Don't_ say child!' Ginny said, fiercely. 'I fought in the war, didn't I? I'm sick of being cooped up and out of this.'

'You were ill-'

'And I'm better now. I'm coming.'

There was a pause, and then Arthur sighed softly.

'Molly, I think-'

'_No.'_

'She's old enough,' Arthur said, quietly.

Molly pushed back her chair, and sighed. 'Ginny-'

'I'll be careful, Mum,' said Ginny. There was more strength in her voice now.

'Alright then,' Remus said, tersely. 'Harry, Ron, Ginny, and-'

'I'll go,' said Emmeline Vance. She had returned with the boys and had been hovering discreetly in a corner, her narrow, brittle body shrinking into the shadows.

Remus nodded. 'The four of you take the field, then. This, here-' he pointed to another neat square- 'Is a sort of parliament. Chances are the center of the operation will be based about here.'

'Who'll take it?' Molly asked, quietly.

'I will,' said Remus.

Tonks snapped her neck around. 'Remus, you can't possibly go alone-'

'I won't,' Remus interrupted. 'I'll try to find Sirius.'

Arthur looked skeptical. 'He could be anywhere down there.'

'I'll look for him, then,' Remus said, with forced easiness. 'The timing will be good- as soon as word of the attacks spread around, the top members will probably gather here. Sirius and I can hit it when it's full.'

'I don't like-' Tonks began, but Remus silenced her with a look.

'What are we left with?' asked Arthur.

Remus pointed to the last rectangle. 'A store,' he said, 'Mostly for infrastructure. Timber, metal for armors, stuff like that. But it's _vital_ that we hit it, because we don't want to give them the opportunity to build themselves up again.'

'Molly and I can handle that,' Arthur said, reaching over the table and grasping his wife's hand. 'We'll destroy it.'

'Well, that's it then,' Remus said, quietly. 'Once we hit these, we've pretty much destroyed their chances of existing or even rebuilding themselves. Let's say that we go in seperately, through the portals that are closest to our targets, and then get out and get to Grimmauld Place as soon as we're done. In and out.'

They all nodded grimly. They knew it wasn't going to be easy.


	45. Escapes and Charms

**Author's Note: Yes, I'm breaking away from my reputation as absentee bitch.**

**Enjoy.**

**CHAPTER 44**

'We need to get out of here,' Sirius said, urgently.

Hermione had sunk down onto the chair again, her ankles trembling under her weight. She brought up a hand to her forehead and pressed it.

'We can disillusion ourselves,' she said, dully. 'I doubt anyone will be coming in here to check on me. Once we're out, we can apparate to Grimmauld Place and pray that we're on time.'

Sirius nodded. He reached out and grasped her hand, squeezing it for a brief moment. 'We can work this,' he said, in a quiet, but firm tone. 'We just have to be quick.'

Hermione could hear the pressing anxiety in his voice. She forced herself to stand up, and then reached for her wand. She concentrated all her magical energy into its tip, summoning up the most powerful Disillusionment charm she could manage. She knew it worked, because when she was done, Sirius let out a low whistle.

'You're practically invisible,' he said.

'Your turn.'

When Sirius had cast the same charm on himself, he walked over to the front door and cautiously pried it open an inch. It was disconcerting: all Hermione could see was a faint ripple in the air, a sort of heat haze. She heard footsteps walking back towards her, and then a low voice spoke directly in her ear.

'The road's nearly clear. We'll have to dodge a bit. Hold my hand, I don't want to get separated.'

She groped about in the air until her fingers closed over his, and swallowed as he directed both of them out of the shack. He slowly pulled the door open a couple of inches more, and said, 'Do you think we can squeeze through? I don't want to open it all the way, in case someone's watching.'

She nodded and took a deep breath, sucking her stomach in as she slid out of the shack. It was noticeable warmer outside, a jarring heat that seemed to rise up off the ground and permeate her bones. She wondered how they kept the bunker warm in the winter.

'This way,' Sirius said, quietly. His breath tickled against her ear and made the hairs on her arm stand up. They linked hands again, and walked carefully down the road, eyes scanning their surroundings with a rushed nervousness.

* * *

'Promise me you'll be careful,' Remus said, quietly.

They had changed hurriedly into dark clothes, rustled up from the combined resource pool of Molly's and Arthur's wardrobes. The result was an eclectic medley of attires: Remus was wearing a navy blue dress shirt over his dark gray pajamas, and Tonks was dressed in a black gown that would have looked appropriate at a funeral.

'You know I will,' she said, dismissively, fingering the velvety trimming at her waistline. 'Do we really have to wear these?'

'They'll help hide us, you know. Bright clothes would have made disillusioning ourselves even more difficult.'

'I look like I'm going to mourn the death of Lucius Malfoy.'

'He isn't dead yet.'

'Haven't we talked about this? He will be when I get through with him.'

Remus chuckled and pressed her hand within his. Worry tinged his features.

A click of the door behind them signified that the last to change: Harry, Ron and Ginny had entered the kitchen. Harry and Ron were wearing dress robes, and Ginny wore a nun's habit.

'Excuse me?' Tonks asked, her eyes wide.

Ginny looked sheepish. 'It's left over from a costume party when I was eleven. Mum charmed it to fit.'

'Wow. I don't have the worst battle dress anymore.'

Ginny managed a weak smile as she turned to face the others, clustered around the table. 'Are we ready to go?'

Her father nodded. 'As ready as we can be. Everyone remember's their targets, right?'

Silent nods echoed around the table.

'As soon as we're done, we get out and apparate back to Grimmauld Place. We should leave- _now._'

Remus hugged Tonks, briefly but tightly as the others began to file out.

'Time to go,' he said.

She nodded.

They collected in the dark lawn outside the Burrow, segregated into groups according to their attack plan.

'Hold hands while we apparate,' Kingsley said, tersely. Nervousness was etched plainly across his face. 'We all take our respective portals.'

The creeping darkness almost muffled the sharp cracks of apparation that echoed about the lawn.

* * *

It was raining lightly in London. Remus cursed as the soft drops hit his shoulders through Arthur's ridiculous dress shirt. He wished he had a coat, but there hadn't been time to find a dark one.

'It'll probably be warmer down there,' he muttered.

He wrapped his arms about himself, pausing before exiting the dark alley into which he had apparated to. To his left, the main road was sleekly wet, amber drops of light reflected on its dazzling surface. Across, the red telephone booth reposed conspicuously on the pavement. He checked to make sure nobody was around, and then pointed his wand to himself and cast a disillusionment charm.

'Best I can do for now,' he sighed. The raindrops were bouncing off his near-invisible form. He felt wetter and colder.

He dashed across the street and into the telephone booth. He punched in the number, and collected his badge from the slot. Jamming it into his pocket, he tapped his foot impatiently as the booth slowly descended, and then pulled back the doors into the empty atrium. It was nearly one in the morning, and the fireplaces were empty, halls deserted. Remus raced towards the elevator, and slammed the doors shut as he waited for it to climb up to the Marriage Registrar.

He hoped fervently that the Registrar office was empty, and was relieved to find that it was. The storage cupboard door was slightly ajar. Remus pried it open a little more and slid inside, clicking it shut as he did so. He pulled back the shelf, his heart leaping up against his ribcage as it jarred noisily along the way, and then took a deep breath as he stepped past it and onto the landing that led to the spiral staircase.

He prayed that wherever Tonks was, she was alright.

He felt the stairs vibrate under him as he dismounted them, each step sending a slight jar through the structure. His ears were pricked the entire way, and although half way down he had thought he heard muffled whispers, the coast was clear. He tried to move as quickly as he could, and when he stood on the platform, overlooking the entire city, he took a moment to process his surroundings.

He knew it was impossible to see the others. Wherever they were, they were disillusioned to the quick, and were probably slinking in and out of shadows and hiding behind walls. He wished he could point them out though, wished he could see signs of the disruption they were planning to cause. It would have given him a sense of strength.

'They're out there,' he murmured to himself. 'They're out there right _now_.'

His feeling of aloneness dissipated slightly. He turned around and his eyes sought out the parliament.

It was a conspicuous building, located somewhere close to the center of the city. It was built of blocks of dark gray stone, fitted sleekly together to form a vertical, stretched structure, shaped like a narrow cylinder with an iron spire above it. The stone was interspersed in places with clean glass, a strange contrast of old-fashioned and cutting-edge. It was surrounded by an iron fence, with an intricately worked gate.

That's where he was headed. If he found Sirius on the way, it would be a huge relief. But if he didn't, he would have to face this monster on his own.

* * *

'Someone's coming!' Hermione whispered, urgently.

They were poised half-way up the spiral staircase to the Marriage Registrar. She could feel low footsteps working their way down, towards where they were standing. Her hand, which was loosely linked with Sirius's tightened with fear.

Sirius reacted quickly. He encircled her shoulders with his other arm and pushed her back, against the spiny column that formed the backbone of the staircase. Hermione felt the cold metal bite into her back and stifled a yelp as Sirius pushed his body up against her, closing his arms around her and the column all in one.

'They'll be using the banister on the other side,' he whispered, directly into her ear. 'If we're lucky, they'll miss us.'

_If_, Hermione thought, grimly. They were leaving a lot to chance. She sucked in her breath and sent up a silent prayer as the footsteps got closer. She waited as they cut the final turn above them, wondering whether it was Kaploffe, coming back.

To her shock, it was no one.

A faint ripple of air passed by them: a disillusionment charm. Hermione's eyes widened as it hurried past and continued down.

'Gone,' she whispered, a few seconds later. Sirius hesitated and then stepped back.

'Who was it?'

'Disillusioned. I wonder who it could-'

Sirius shook his head. 'We don't have time for this,' he muttered. 'We have to run. Come on.'

He sought out her hand again and they continued up the stairs, their pace a little faster this time. Sirius pushed aside the shelf and they slipped out of the storage cupboard.

'Why's the registrar empty?' Hermione whispered.

'There's a stunned girl under the desk. Don't ask.'

Hermione shook her head as they raced to the elevator and down the Atrium. She could feel the vibrations from each footstep soar through her body and to her head, adding exponentially to her panic-addled state. Beside her, Sirius seemed remotely calmer, but his movements were filled with a pressing urgency.

She knew that deep down he was as worried as she was.

As they got back onto the street, Sirius headed automatically towards Remus's car, which was parked off the curb, but Hermione reached out and grabbed his hand.

'No time,' she said, abruptly. 'We should apparate.'

He nodded and grasped her hand tighter, as he spun on the spot and felt the wave of dizziness overcome him. They landed very precisely on the top step of Grimmauld Place, but Hermione didn't feel the snap of the barriers as they passed through them, and she knew that it could only mean one thing. She turned to Sirius, her face panicky.

'He's been here,' she whispered.

His hand tightened around her own. 'Or he still is. We need to be careful. Boost up your disillusionment and we'll check around for him.'

Hermione nodded, tightly. 'Do we split up?'

'That makes sense. I'll take Roran and Prattle's rooms and that wing of the house. You check the northern front: the kitchen, landings, and all the rest. Oh, and peek in on my old room too. Roran was there.'

'Is,' Hermione said, quietly. 'He still could be.'


End file.
